Aunt Jane: Well. I’m not going to sit on Mr. Sage’s part for anyone. (She stands up.) Now, tell me, how much do all these instalments come to?
Jack: Well, actually—(He takes out his pocket- book and consults it) actually to seven pounds eight and eight pence a week. Aunt Jane: Good heavens! And how much do you earn? Jack: As a matter of fact—er—that is—six pounds.
Aunt Jane: But that’s absurd! How can you pay seven pounds eight and eight pence out of six pounds? Jack: Oh, that’s easy. You see, all you have to do is to borrow the rest of the money for the payments from the Thrift and Providence Trust Corporation.
Jill: They’re only too glad to loan you any amount you like, on note of hand alone. Aunt Jane: And how do you propose to pay that back? Jack: Oh, that’s easy, too. You just pay it back in instalments.
Aunt Jane: Instalments! (She claps her hand to her forehead and sinks back weakly into the chair. Then realises that she is sitting on Mr. Sage’s piece and leaps to her feet again with a little shriek.) Jack: Aunt Jane!
Is anything the matter? Would you like to lie down? Aunt Jane: Lie down? Do you suppose I’m going to trust myself in a bed that belongs to Mr.
Sage, or Marks and Spencer, or somebody? No, I am going home. Jill: Oh, must you really go? Aunt Jane: I think I’d better.
Jack: I’ll drive you to the station. Aunt Jane: What! Travel in a car that has only one tyre and two thingummies! No thank you—I’ll take the bus.
Jack: Well, of course, if you feel like that about it.... Aunt Jane: Now, I’m sorry if I sounded rude, but really I’m shocked to find the way (relenting a little) you’re living. I’ve never owed a penny in my life—cash down, that’s my motto and I want you to do the same. (She opens her handbag.) Now look, here’s a little cheque I was meaning to give you, anyway.
(She hands it to Jill.) Suppose you take it and pay off just one of your bills— so that you can say one thing at least really belongs to you. -C-SR-THE NEVER - NEVER - - :