Mr. Cricket. Well, yesterday a bird got him—Snap, snip, snap. So we’re moving into his house. By Jove, what a slice of luck!
Mrs. Cricket. Gobbled him up alive? How horrible!
Mr. Cricket. Eh? A godsend for us. I did laugh. Tralala, &c. We’ll put up a plate. (Puts up plate with ‘Mr. Cricket, musician’) Where shall we put it? More to the right? Higher?
Mrs. Cricket. And you saw him eaten?
Mr. Cricket. I’m telling you—like that—snap, snip!
Mrs. Cricket. Horrible! Cricket, I have such a queer feeling.
Mr. Cricket. Good heavens—Perhaps it’s—no, it couldn’t be, not yet!
Mrs. Cricket. Oh dear, I’m so frightened.
Mr. Cricket. Nothing to be frightened of, dear—Every lady——
Mrs. Cricket. It’s all very well for you to talk—Cricket, will you always love me?