Mrs. Dot: A Farce

by W. Somerset Maugham

I looked her out in my note-book. Six months ago we sent her fifteen pounds because she had nine children. Now she has eleven.

Mrs. Dot.

And yet they complain that the birth-rate is falling. I think we’d better send her five pounds.

Freddie.

You really can’t encourage a woman who has twins twice a year, when her husband is not only bed-ridden but a hopeless lunatic.

Mrs. Dot.

Perhaps she is a little prolific.

Freddie.

Here is my answer to Mrs. MacTavish, who wants help to bury a husband.

Mrs. Dot.