Helms. Nonsense! What should there be?
Krakau. Your eightieth birthday. They put all kinds of foolishness in the papers these days.
Helms. Didn't you hear what I said? There is nothing.
Krakau. I heard you.
Helms [regards him distrustfully over his spectacles]. Have you been reading this paper while I was out?
Krakau [loftily]. I always read the paper at night, you know. Newspaper ought to be read by lamplight.
Helms. Boasting about your eyesight again.
Krakau. Yes, I have excellent eyes. [Knocks solemnly on wood.]
Helms. Did you read the "personal notes"?
Krakau [indignantly]. I told you I haven't touched your old paper.