“And got a little knowledge o’ French,” says Mrs. Hatch.
“Was that French they was singin’?” says Hatch. “I thought it was Wop or ostrich.”
“That shows you up,” says his Frau.
Well, when we got on the car for home they wasn’t only one vacant seat and, o’ course, Hatch had to have that. So I and my Missus and Mrs. Hatch clubbed together on the straps and I got a earful o’ the real dope.
“What do you think o’ Farr’r’s costumes?” says Mrs. Hatch.
“Heavenly!” says my Missus. “Specially the one in the second act. It was all colors o’ the rainbow.”
“Hatch is right in style then,” I says.
“And her actin’ is perfect,” says Mrs. Hatch.
“Her voice too,” says the Wife.
“I liked her actin’ better,” says Mrs. H. “I thought her voice yodeled in the upstairs registers.”
“What do you suppose killed her?” I says.
“She was stabbed by her lover,” says the Missus.
“You wasn’t lookin’,” I says. “He never touched her. It was prob’ly tobacco heart.”
“He stabs her in the book,” says Mrs. Hatch.
“It never went through the bindin’,” I says.
“And wasn’t Mooratory grand?” says the Wife.