Mr. Jupp. Wednesdays, mum, I go to “The Red Bungalow.”
“The Nook.” All day?
Mr. Jupp. Yes, mum, all day. By rights I ought to be there all the week, there’s that work to be done.
“The Nook.” Mondays, then? Are you engaged on Mondays?
Mr. Jupp. Yes, mum; on Mondays I belongs to “Sans Souci.”
“The Nook.” But this is Monday. Why aren’t you there now?
Mr. Jupp. I am, mum. This is my tea-time.
“The Nook.” Couldn’t you give me your tea-times? You shall have tea—anything you like—in the garden, and if you gave me that hour every evening all through the week I daresay it would do.
Mr. Jupp. What, mum, work all through my tea-time!
“The Nook.” I should pay you for it, of course. And really you’re much better without tea. You’ll enjoy your supper all the more, you know. Wouldn’t he, Mrs. Jupp?