OLIVIA (sitting left of the table): I expect it is a bit of an event.
MRS. TERENCE (leaning over the table, searching in her paper):
'E says they're sellin' like ninepins—
MRS. BRAMSON (turning pages over, impatiently): Where is it?…
MRS. TERENCE: Oh, I expect it's nothing after all….
OLIVIA: Here it is…. (Reading) "Disappeared mysteriously … woods round the village being searched" … then her description … tall … blonde….
MRS. TERENCE: Blonde? I should think she is … I can't find it!
OLIVIA: Here's something … "A keeper in the Shepperley woods was closely questioned late last night, but he had heard nothing, beyond a woman's voice in the woods on the afternoon in question, and a man's voice, probably with her, singing 'Mighty Lak a Rose.' Enquiries are being pursued…."
MRS. BRAMSON: "Mighty Lak a Rose." What rubbish!…
MRS. TERENCE: Oh yes…. It's the 'eadline in this one. (Humming the tune absently as she reads) "Don't know what to call you, but you're mighty lak a rose." … Those men have done rummaging in the garden, anyway.
MRS. BRAMSON: I must go this minute and have a look at my pampas grass.
And if they've damaged it I'll bring an action.