's quite fine now, Clara. We can walk to a motor bus.
Come. [She gathers her skirts above her ankles and hurries off towards
the Strand].

THE DAUGHTER. But the cab--[her mother is out of hearing]. Oh, how
tiresome! [She follows angrily].

All the rest have gone except the note taker, the gentleman, and the
flower girl, who sits arranging her basket, and still pitying herself
in murmurs.

THE FLOWER GIRL. Poor girl! Hard enough for her to live without being
worrited and chivied.

THE GENTLEMAN [returning to his former place on the note taker's left]
How do you do it, if I may ask?

THE NOTE TAKER. Simply phonetics. The science of speech. That's my
profession; also my hobby. Happy is the man who can make a living by
his hobby! You can spot an Irishman or a Yorkshireman by his brogue. I
can place any man within six miles. I can place him within two miles in
London. Sometimes within two streets.

THE FLOWER GIRL. Ought to be ashamed of himself, unmanly coward!

THE GENTLEMAN. But is there a living in that?

THE NOTE TAKER. Oh yes. Quite a fat one. This is an age of upstarts.
Men begin in Kentish Town with 80 pounds a year, and end in Park Lane
with a hundred thousand. They want to drop Kentish Town; but they give
themselves away every time they open their mouths. Now I can teach
them--

THE FLOWER GIRL. Let him mind his own business and leave a poor girl--

THE NOTE TAKER [explosively] Woman: cease this detestable boohooing
instantly; or else seek the shelter of some other place of worship.

THE FLOWER GIRL [with feeble defiance] I've a right to be here if I
like, same as you.

THE NOTE TAKER. A woman who utters such depressing and disgusting
sounds has no right to be anywhere--no right to live. Remember that you
are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech:
that your native language is the language of Shakespear and Milton and
The Bible; and don't sit there crooning like a bilious pigeon.

THE FLOWER GIRL [quite overwhelmed, and looking up at him in mingled
wonder and deprecation without daring to raise her head]
Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--oo!

THE NOTE TAKER [whipping out his book] Heavens! what a sound! [He
writes; then holds out the book and reads, reproducing her vowels
exactly] Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--ow--oo!

THE FLOWER GIRL [tickled by the performance, and laughing in spite of
herself] Garn!

THE NOTE TAKER. You see this creature with her kerbstone English: the
English that will