Pin. How’s your grandmother?

Miss Sky. Very well indeed for her age!

Pin. How old is she?

Miss Sky. Seventy-two—I’ve told you so twenty times.

Pin. Dear me, then I must have asked that question twenty times. Now what more can I say, I wonder? Is there anything in the room I can talk about? (Looks about.) Nice place this, isn’t it?

Miss Sky. Very!

Pin. So airy?

Miss Sky. Very!

Pin. I’ve soon finished that subject. I wish she’d say something—I can’t find conversation for one, much more two!

Miss Sky. (Singing.) “Oh, bear me to some distant shore or solitary cell.”