Fish. Oh, just an old piece of something I found in my mouth.
Doris. It’s gum. I thought I asked you not to chew gum. It doesn’t look clean-cut for a man to be chewing gum. You haven’t got any sense of what’s nice, Joseph. See here, suppose I was at a reception and went up to Mrs. Astor or Mrs. Vanderbilt or somebody, like this: [She replaces her own gum in her mouth—she needs it for her imitation.] How do you do, Mrs. Vanderbilt? [Chew, chew.] What do you think she’d say? Do you think she’d stand it? Not for a minute.
Fish. Well, when I start going with Mrs. Vanderbilt will be plenty of time to stop.
From outside is heard the sound of a metallic whistle, a melodious call in C major.
Doris. Don’t ask me.
Fish. It’s pretty. It must be some kind of bird.
The whistle is repeated. It is nearer.
There it is again.
Doris goes to the window.