Trent: Oh! I do say!
Jemima: Thee scahndal would rhuin half thee communitay!
Trent: Gosh! How odd!
Jemima: Thee little trahmp is playing Ghod.
Trent: Bother! That’s not right!
Jemima: A young wombman should fohrgive her groom, it’s only nahtural, shurelay.
I heard thaht Mhavis hheard thaht shea is in thee family whay
Trent: What a bloody Bugger! It’s not natural, I say!
Marybeth: Never mind, i heard it died.
Trent: The marriage?
Marybeth: No, the child.
Jemima: Did shea hurht it, or ignorhe it to cauhse it’s wounds.
Marybeth: No, I heard it lived too soon.
Trent: Well where is the father, what has he to say?
Marybeth: We do not know, Mr. Black, he is away
Jemima: Well shame ohn a whoman fohr neglhecting ah mhan!
Trent (pale): What say we picnic in the park? I’ll get my automobile.
Jemima: (sotto): Nhever mihnd thee infernal mahchine, what did shea lahst sahy, gihrl?
Marybeth: She seemed sad for the man, but not for the death.
Jemima: Firhst thihngs fihrst, as ah always sahy Marybeth.
Trent: Are you sure you won’t go? I am feeling a chill.
Jemima: Go thehn, Misterr Blahck, and do not get ill!
Trent: My Stars, woman! Was it something I said?
Marybeth: No Mr Black, but we crucify the dead. Perhaps in a way it was all a mistake. The girl, not much younger than me, could have been me, perhaps. If circumstances prescribe to us a certain destiny, had I been born a different name it may well have been me. Are we so right to judge what we see? Should we not speak to her to reveal this mystery? Alas! I do not think she will let us close, we are two islands apart... and man should never try to mend a wounded heart. We have been blessed with so many years, should we not grieve for her, have we no tears? I think I will appreciate life... from this minute on. Come Mrs Black, come, Mr. Black, we will go to the park. Perhaps we will sing...just for a Lark!