Gan. I was sayin' it's shady under the h'oak. (puts toast on table)
Thor. Exactly.
(Newsboy enters at gate, crosses to C. and calls towards kitchen window.)
Boy. Papiers!
Gan. Late again! (crosses in front of table)
Boy. No, I ain't. (turns and faces Gandy)
Gan. Yes, you h'are. (looks at silver watch) Four minutes and a half late. (Thorsby sits R. and reads letter) Your prospects of a Christmas-box are darkenin' week by week.
Boy. Well, but I say, Gandy! (crosses down C.)
Gan. Mr. Gandy! A leetle more respect might assist your grandmother's next h'application to the coal and blanket fund. Now, is this to-day's "Standard?"