Han. Lena, you vos lookin’ as nice as a rosebud mit the catarrh.
Lena. Oh, Hannis!
Han. Dat vos drue. Vos dat you singing, Lena?
Lena. It vos.
Han. Vhy, I thought dat it was somebody shoveling coal. [Lena hits him a slap in the face. Hannis makes a wry face.
Han. There, you hab cracked the spine of my jaw.
Lena. Then vhy vill you dry to be funny? But come, sit down on yourself, Hannis.
Han. What on—a moonpeam?
Lena. On a chair, stupid. [Brings chair to front of stage and both take seats.] Vot vos it you brought me?
Han. You like candy, Lena?