Tom. Her sweet harvest.
Bul. (writing). Her sweet harvest. (All shake their heads and sigh.)
Tom. Her honey, you know.
Bul. Thank you. (Sighs. All finish writing and put up their note-books.)
Mrs. Eff. You are a close student of nature, sir.
Tom. Yes, I do a good deal in that way.
Mrs. Eff. How simple are his words, and yet what priceless pearls of thought lie encased beneath their outer crust!
Tom. Yes, I always wrap them in an outer crust, to keep them from the cold. (All take out note-books and write this down.)
Car. (writing).
“He wraps them in an outer crust