“Excuse me a moment, old chap, but that sounds as if his chin was wrapped in thought.”
“So it does; I’ll change that. Thanks awfully for telling me, Bertha.”
“Not at all, dear.”
“But it is frightfully decent of you.”
“All right. Get on.”
“‘At the back of the stage R. are seated two men; one of some eight and twenty summers the other of some six and twenty years old. They are seated in the corners of the stage and in apparently earnest conversation.’ (Now the dialogue begins, Bertha, listen):
“‘Youth: Are you there, mistress? Is my ale nigh on ready? Zounds, I’m mighty thirsty, I am.’
“‘Mistress: Ay, ay, great Scot! here’s your ale. You can’t expect to be served before the quality.’”
“What did Pickering think of this?” interrupted Bertha.
“Pickering! Oh! I wouldn’t show it to a chap like that. At any rate, not unless you think it’s all right, Bertha.”