First Matron. Ah, well, my dear, it’s Competition, you know,—­it don’t do to think too much of it.

Conductor (stopping the bus). Orchard Street, Lady.

To Second Matron, who had desired to be put down there.

Second Matron (to Conductor).  Just move on a few doors further, opposite the boot-shop. (To First Matron.) It will save us walking.

Conductor. Cert’inly, Mum, we’ll drive in and wait while you ’re tryin’ ’em on, if you like—­we ain’t in no ’urry!

The Matrons get out, and their places are taken by two young girls, who are in the middle of a conversation of thrilling interest.

First Girl. I never liked her myself—­ever since the way she behaved at his Mother’s that Sunday.

Second Girl. How did she behave?

[A faint curiosity is discernible amongst the other passengers to learn how she—­whoever she is—­behaved that Sunday.

First Girl._ Why, it was you told me! You remember.  That night JOE let out about her and the automatic scent fountain.

Second Girl. Oh, yes, I remember now. (General disappointment. ) I couldn’t help laughing myself.  Joe didn’t ought to have told—­but she needn’t have got into such a state over it, need she?

First Girl, That was ELIZA all over.  If GEORGE had been sensible, he’d have broken it off then and there—­but no, he wouldn’t hear a word against her, not at that time—­it was the button-hook opened his eyes!

[The other passengers strive to dissemble a frantic desire to know how and why this delicate operation was performed. Second Girl (mysteriously)_.  And enough too!  But what put GEORGE off most was her keeping that bag so quiet.

[The general imagination is once more stirred to its depths by this mysterious allusion.

First Girl. Yes, he did feel that, I know, he used to come and go on about it to me by the hour together.  “I shouldn’t have minded so much,” he told me over and over again, with the tears standing in his eyes,—­“if it hadn’t been that the bottles was all silver-mounted!”

Second Girl. Silver-mounted?  I never heard of that before—­no wonder he felt hurt!

First Girl (impressively). Silver tops to everyone of them—­and that girl to turn round as she did, and her with an Uncle in the oil and colour line, too—­it nearly broke GEORGE’S ’art!

Second Girl.  He’s such a one to take on about things—­but, as I said to him, “GEORGE,” I says, “You must remember it might have been worse.  Suppose you’d been married to that girl, and then found out about ALF and the Jubilee sixpence—­how would that have been?”

First Girl (unconsciously acting as the mouth-piece of the other passengers). And what did he say to that?