VICAR. Robert!
ROBERT. Yus, it's me, my 'oly brother!
VICAR. Didn't you—didn't you get my wire?
ROBERT. Yus, I gorit-: Drains wrong, eh? Thought I'd like to 'av' a look at 'em—my job, yer know, drains! So you'll excuse the togs: remind you of old days, eh what?
VICAR. Robert, what have you come here for?
ROBERT. You arsk me that?
VICAR. Yes, I do. Bob . . .
ROBERT. Why, to see my little gel, o' course—Gawd curse you! . . .
Now go an tell your ole woman.
[The VICAR stands as though stricken.]