Act 6, Scene 3
The Wall
Saturday, May 22nd, 8:30 am.
Mrs. Whitby's bedroom second story window.
"Herman! Herman!" Mrs. Whitby yelled downstairs to her husband. "Get
up here! Look at this."
Her husband, who was rather large and ill-dressed, slowly climbed the
stairs and trundled over to her. She was standing in her housecoat,
had her opera glasses out, peering down and out of the window.
"Wot is it now, Agnes?" he said rather uncharitably.
"Look at that!" Agnes exclaimed, agitated. "They're raising the wall!
They can't do that! That's against the code."
"Doin' wot? Raisin' the garden wall?" Herman asked, taking a sip of
black coffee.
"Yes, yes. Of course. Just look!" Mrs. Whitby cried.
She handed him the opera glasses, but he impatiently waved them away
and glanced down into the Macmillan's garden next door.
"Sure enough," he said, "That's wot they're doin'. Perhaps two
metres. None of your business ... You'll still have four other
gardens to spy on."
"What do you mean? That's against code," Mrs. Whitby protested. "And
I'm calling the planning board right now."
"On a Saturday morning?"
"Bah," she replied, "Monday then, first thing. You're no help
whatsoever."
"It's wot keeps me out of trouble."
HMSVV2010
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