Mr. Pim Passes By: A Comedy in Three Acts

by A. A. Milne

Olivia (sitting again). Yes?

Pim (still rather nervous and throwing up his arms in distress). Mr. Marden will be so angry with me, and very rightly. Oh, I blame myself. I blame myself entirely. I don't know how I can have been so stupid. (Sits on stool L.C. very concerned).

Olivia. What is it, Mr. Pim? My first husband hasn't come to life again, has he?

Pim. No! No! No! (Looking round to R. and speaking very mysteriously across table L.C.) The fact is–his name was Pelwittle.

Olivia (at a loss). Whose? My husband's?

Pim. Yes, yes. Henry Pelwittle, poor fellow.

Olivia. But my husband's name was Telworthy.

Pim. No! Oh dear, no! Pelwittle. (Firmly.) It came back to me suddenly just as I reached the gate–Henry Pelwittle, poor fellow.

Olivia. But really, Mr. Pim, I ought to know.

Pim. No! No! Pelwittle.