Doctor. Don't talk, my good girl, I'm busy, (cuts bread)
Aurora (getting behind couch—aside) "'Is good girl," that I am, it's all for 'im. I know 'e's starving. 'E goes for that stale quartern like the pore prodigal gentleman with the 'usks, but I've got a treat for 'im, that there card put it in my 'ead. (points to Quayle's card in mirror) I've bought 'im a beautiful bird, that'll give 'im a relish, (to Doctor) Couldn't you fancy something light with yer tea, sir? (back of couch)
Doctor. Yes, I think I could—I'll finish that tin of potted pig I left, (rises, gets cC)
Aurora. (aside) My stars! An' Tupper's ate it!
Doctor. (opens drawer of bureau) Hullo! It's gone!
Aurora. (to him) G-gone bad, sir.
Doctor. (suspiciously) Gone bad?
Aurora. Yes, sir, an' I've fr—fr—
Doctor. Fried it?
Aurora. No, sir, frowed it away!