Bobby. They pay the money down town, next day. I know, ’cause I was with Daddy when he did, and he gave me a quarter not to tell Mamma. ’Sides, Mamma plays Bridge and that’s just as bad, Daddy says.
Rev. J. J. Would they like you to tell me this?
Betty. P’raps not, but you won’t tell, will you? It’s right to tell the minister bad things, ’cause he’ll forgive you if you pay him something, and you can do it over again. That’s the way Christine does. She’s a Catholic. Are you?
Rev. J. J. No indeed, my dear.
Bobby. (Who has gone out, re-enters with a bottle and glass.) Have some wine? Daddy always entertains this way. It’s a fine flavor. I drank a bit from the bottom of a glass once, and ’twas awful good, but Mamma was mad about it.
Rev. J. J. Put it back, my boy. I never drink. Ministers never do.
Betty. My, how thirsty you must get! What do you do when you’ve been eating salt fish?
Rev. J. J. I don’t care for salt fish.
Bobby. Neither do we, but we eat a lot of it when we’re saving up for a party.
Betty. Can you dance the tango?