Her next attempt was more fortunate. A lugubrious man at the back of the hall readily recognised the description and claims of his deceased wife.
“I get the name Walter.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“She called you Walt?”
“No.”
“Well, she calls Wat now. ‘Tell Wat to give my love to the children.’ That’s how I get it. She is worrying about the children.”
“She always did.”
“Well, they don’t change. Furniture. Something about furniture. She says you gave it away. Is that right?”
“Well, I might as well.”
The audience tittered. It was strange how the most solemn and the comic were eternally blended—strange and yet very natural and human.