Miss D.: I am looking for a lovely little dog without any hair and very susceptible to low temperatures.
Storekeeper: We don’t handle none.
Miss D.: He is lost, but I should fear to find him here because your store is so chilly and he would lack warmth. I wonder you do not buy a new stove. Permit me to send you one.
Storekeeper: Who be ye?
Miss D.: I will give you my address. [Hands him her card.] I fear if my lost little hairless dog should wander in here he would find the air too cold. On that account I wish to offer you a modern stove in place of that fearful old thing yonder. When the new stove arrives, will you be so kind as to have this old one shipped to me, express charges collect, as a slight compensation for the trouble I am taking on account of my dear little dog’s health?
Storekeeper: If you send me a new stove, I’ll do it, by ’Ory!
Miss D.: That is all I wished to ascertain. Thanking you—[Exit laughingly.]
Dialogue IV
[Professor K., the well-known historian, has heard that a Fisherman of Martha’s Vineyard owns a set of Venetian glass comfit boxes once the property of Henri Quatre. He enters the Fisherman’s shack.]
Prof. K.: Good-morning. I am interested in getting your opinion of a set of Whitman, bound in green cloth or morocco at your option. May I show you—