Victoria : That's grandpa's clock. Mrs. Slater : Be quiet! It's ours now. Come, Henry, lift your end.
(Henry and Mrs. Slater, very hot and flushed, stagger in with a pretty
old-fashioned bureau containing a locked desk. They put it where the
chest of drawers was, and straighten the ornaments, etc. There is a
knock at the door. The knocking is repeated.)
(Victoria ushers in Ben and Mrs. Jordan. The latter is a stout, complacent
woman with an irritating air of being always right. She is wearing an
outfit of new mourning. Ben is also in complete new mourning. He is
rather a jolly little man, but at present trying to adapt himself to the
regrettable occasion. Mrs. Jordan sails into the room and solemnly goes
straight to Mrs. Slater and kisses her. The men shake hands.)
Mrs. Jordan: Well, Amelia, and so he's gone at last. Mrs. Slater : Yes, he's gone. He was seventy-two a fortnight last Sunday. (She sniffs
back a tear.)
Ben (chirpily) : Now, Amelia, you mustn't give way. We've all got to die some time or
other. Mrs. Jordan: And now perhaps you'll tell us all about it.
Mrs. Slater : Father had been merry this morning. He went out soon after breakfast to
pay his insurance.
Ben : My word, it's a good thing he did.
Mrs. Jordan : He always was thoughtful in that way. He was too honourable to have 'gone' with out paying his premium.
Henry : And when I came in I found him undressed sure enough and snug in bed.
Mrs. Slater : And when we'd finished dinner I thought I'd take up a bit of something on a tray.He was lying there for all the world as if he was asleep, so I put the
tray down on the bureau-(correcting herself) on the chest of drawers - and
went to waken him. (A pause) He was quite cold.
(A pause. They wipe their eyes and sniff back tears.)
Mrs. Slater : (Rising briskly at length; in a business-like tone) Well, will you go up and look at him now, or shall we have tea?