‘Tell me more about her, man.’
‘She has sent me a lot of things, especially cakes, and a worsted waistcoat, with a loving message on the enclosed card.’
The old lady is now in a quiver of excitement. She loses control of her arms, which jump excitedly this way and that.
‘You’ll try one of my cakes, mister?’
‘Not me.’
‘They’re of my own making.’
‘No, I thank you.’
But with a funny little run she is in the pantry and back again. She planks down a cake before him, at sight of which he gapes.
‘What’s the matter? Tell me, oh, tell me, mister.’
‘That’s exactly the kind of cake that her ladyship sends me.’