Whi. Quite. We go every night.
Tom. She used to call it the “theayter.”
Whi. (much moved). She does still!
Tom. Bless her for it. And does she still like oysters after the play?
Whi. Always. She bargains for ’em—stout and oysters.
Tom. She used to call them “histers.”
Whi. She does still.
Tom. Oh, thank you for this news of her. Oh, Whipple, make that woman happy!
Whi. Trust me—I will, for poor dear Tom Cobb’s sake. How she loved that man! (Wipes his eye.) But this is not business. The Colonel, who is downstairs with Mr. Effingham, begged me to give you this—your weekly screw. Allow me, Major-General. (Gives him a sovereign.)
Tom. Thank you. The Colonel is always regular and punctual with my little pension.