A
couple of Matrons converse in wheezy whispers._
_First Matron._ Well, I must say a bus is pleasanter riding than what
they used to be not many years back, and then so much cheaper, too.
Why, you can go all the way right from here to Mile End Road for
threepence!
_Second Matron._ What, all that way for threepence--(_with an impulse
of vague humanity_.) The _poor_ 'orses!
_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.
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