'Mister.'
He helps himself to butter, and she holds out the jam pot to him, but he haughtily rejects it. Do you think she gives in now? Not a bit of it.
He returns to sarcasm, 'I hope you're pleased with me now you see me.'
'I'm very pleased. Does your folk live in Scotland?'
'Glasgow.'
'Both living?'
'Ay.'
'Is your mother terrible proud of you?'
'Naturally.'
'You'll be going to them?'