HARRY: Well, I like her nerve--and yours.
ANTHONY: You see, she thought it took my mind from my work to be
interrupted when I'm out here. And so it does. So she buzzes once long
and--Well, she buzzes her way, and all other buzzing--
HARRY: May buzz.
ANTHONY: (_nodding gravely_) She thought it would be better for the
flowers.
HARRY: I am not a flower--true, but I too need a little attention--and a
little heat. Will you please tell me why the house is frigid?
ANTHONY: Miss Claire ordered all the heat turned out here, (_patiently
explaining it to_ MISS CLAIRE's _speechless husband_) You see the roses
need a great deal of heat.
HARRY: (_reading the thermometer_) The roses have seventy-three I have
forty-five.
ANTHONY: Yes, the roses need seventy-three.
HARRY: Anthony, this is an outrage!
ANTHONY: I think it is myself; when you consider what we paid for the
heating plant--but as long as it is defective--Why, Miss Claire would
never have done what she has if she hadn't looked out for her plants in
just such ways as this. Have you forgotten that Breath of Life is about
to flower?
HARRY: And where's my breakfast about to flower?--that's what I want to
know.
ANTHONY: Why, Miss Claire got up at five o'clock to order the heat
turned off from the house.
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