Sally. Oh, but he can't get the garden to suit him, sir. (Sits R. of table.)
Walter. Oh! How's that?
Jim. Thanks. (Returning pouch. Walter fills a pipe and lights up.) This air's ruination to a garden, sir.
Walter. You put up a jolly good fight against it, then. My father's garden looks pretty mean compared with yours.
Jim (shyly). Well, sir, you see, your father will try and look after his himself.
Walter. Yes. He's awfully attached to his garden.
Jim (with a touch of patronage). And he doesn't do it badly—for an amateur, as you might say, but—well, he makes mistakes.
Sally (protestingly). Jim!
Walter. Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Pilling. Dick keeping well?
Sally (formally). Oh, yes, thank you, sir.