Another picture.
Mr. Bill Eversleigh, not invited to be present at the graveside ceremony, at the telephone.
“No, really, I mean it. … I say, don’t be huffy. … Well, you will have supper tonight anyway? … No, I haven’t. I’ve been kept to it with my nose at the grindstone. You’ve no idea what Codders is like. … I say, Dolly, you know jolly well what I think about you. … You know I’ve never cared for anyone but you. … Yes, I’ll come to the show first. How does the old wheeze go? ‘And the little girl tries, hooks and eyes.’ …”
Unearthly sounds. Mr. Eversleigh trying to hum the refrain in question.
And now George’s peroration draws to a close.
“… the lasting peace and prosperity of the British Empire!”
“I guess,” said Mr. Hiram Fish sotto voce to himself and the world at large, “that this has been a great little old week.”