{Drawing room.}

Dame Hilda: There you are, Evadne, that's the last shelf cleared and I warn you I am not putting it all back again on my own. Not even if Mousey Butler calls to invite you out swan upping or the vicar wants you to help him pick his nuts.

Dr. Hinge: He's not going to get many nuts this year as a matter of fact. I particularly noticed as I passed the vicarage yesterday.

Dame Hilda: Well, you know what I mean, dear. Now what exactly do you intend to do with this little lot?

Dr. Hinge: I intend to sort it out of course.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, as far as I'm concerned it's already sorted. I've had it on and off these shelves and in and out these cupboards so many times I know everything that's here and precisely where it's kept.

Dr. Hinge: Well, I don't.

Dame Hilda: Well, if you'd stay and help me put it back for a change you'd find out, wouldn’t you?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, if we had a proper system we'd both be able to find things anyway.

Dame Hilda: We can both find things now, dear, and if you've lost anything, you've only to ask.

Dr. Hinge: I'd prefer a proper system. Now, let's start with the musical scores. We'll sort them into alphabetical order. I'll pass them to you and you'll put them on the big table in their various piles, all right?

Dame Hilda: Just as you like, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Right then. First batch coming up. The Merry widow.

Dame Hilda:  The Merry widow.

Dr. Hinge: The Belle of New York.

Dame Hilda: The Belle of New York.

Dr. Hinge: The Quaker girl.

Dame Hilda: The Quaker girl.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, you’re supposed to be sorting them.

Dame Hilda: I am sorting them, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: And why have you put them all the same pile?

Dame Hilda: Because they all begin with ‘The’

Dr. Hinge: That is not the way to do it.

Dame Hilda: That is the way I've always done it.

Dr. Hinge: And that's just what I'm trying to change. No wonder I can never find anything. Hilda, The Merry widow goes under M, The Belle of New York goes under B, and The Quaker girl under Q.

Dame Hilda: Yes. And if we do it that way, we end up with 26 piles, and there just isn't room on this table.

Dr. Hinge: All right. I mean, how many piles do you end up with? If we do it your way.

Dame Hilda: Three.

Dr. Hinge: Three?

Dame Hilda: Yes, titles beginning with ‘The’ titles beginning with A or An, and everything else.

Dr. Hinge: How would you manage to find anything?

Dame Hilda: Well, it's really, very simple. If it begins with ‘The’ I know it's in the big cupboard there. If it begins with A or An, I know it's in the smaller cupboard there, there's not so many of those, you see. And if it doesn't begin with any of those, then I know it must be on the shelf somewhere, with the exception of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas of course they’re all in the Ottoman.

Dr. Hinge: You never said anything about keeping scores in the Ottoman.

Dame Hilda: Only G&S.

Dr. Hinge: I wondered where they’d all got to. And are they all out now with the rest ready to be sorted?

Dame Hilda: No, they're still in the Ottoman, they don't need sorting.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, I want everything out. We are going to sort everything.

Dame Hilda: Then I suppose you'll want the stuff out of the sideboard as well.

Dr. Hinge: For heavens sake, what have you got hidden in the sideboard?

Dame Hilda: Just Noel Coward, Oh, and all the Ivor Novello’s.

Dr. Hinge: Well, you certainly haven't got all the Ivor Novello’s. ‘The dancing years’ is on that piano stool under the pile of sheet music. Or do you have a special hiding place for anything with the word dancing in the title?

Dame Hilda: As a matter of fact, Evadne, that is out because I was going through it before you started all this nonsense. I happened to prefer singing songs to filing them. After all, that is why they were written.

Dr. Hinge: Well, if it was easier to find them, we might be able to devote more time to performing them. I'm already worn to a shred just trying to winkle them all out.

Dame Hilda: If you'd like a little break, dear, I'm game.

Dr. Hinge: I suppose that means that you'd like a little break.

Dame Hilda: Well, I have to admit, I wouldn't mind relaxing for a few minutes. Taking five, as we used to say.

Dr. Hinge: I don't remember you ever taking less than 25. And at the end of that, we were lucky if we could find you. Still, if you want a break.

Dame Hilda: Here, I'll move this lot off the piano stool, Evadne. You just sit there and rest your weary bones.

Dr. Hinge: Thank you.

Dame Hilda: Would you like to play something while you're sitting?

Dr. Hinge: I thought I was being allowed a rest.

Dame Hilda: Yes, but you look so silly sitting there doing nothing. You look as if you’re waiting for the brokers men to come for the piano.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, very well then, what do you want? That's the dancing years in your hand, isn't it?

Dame Hilda: Yes, but as you're resting, I won't ask you to play it all, dear. Let's just do that lovely little song that Greta sings, Primrose. It's number 18 in the Score and it's page 82.

Dr. Hinge: All right, I can see where you've stuck the piece of paper, Hilda, give it here and let's get on with it.

Dame Hilda: Of course Roma Beaumont used to do it lying on top of the piano, you know.

Dr. Hinge: I suppose she knew best.

Primrose was a naughty little blossom

And she lived on primrose hill.

And she always dressed to kill

When she went up west

And did her best

Primrose used to come home rather later

Than a decent hour, at least her mater

Knowing her daughter

Haughtily named her Prim, Primrose.

Dame Hilda: Oh, didn't dear Ivor write such catchy tunes? Let's leave the score on the piano there and we'll do something from it every time you get tired, which is bound to be quite frequently at your age.

{Door knocks.}

Dame Hilda:  Now, who's that, I wonder?

Dr. Hinge: I'll go.

Dame Hilda: No, no, no, you won’t. I'm not having you doing your usual vanishing trick with this lot all over the place. Maud!

Maud: Yes, Dame ‘ilda

Dame Hilda: See who's at the door, will you, dear? And if it's anyone for the Doctor, tell them she's  incommunicado.

Maud: Tell ‘em she's where?

Dame Hilda: Just tell them she's out.

Maud: Righto, Dame ‘ilda,

Dame Hilda: I just hope it's not someone come to visit me. There's nowhere for them to stand in this room, let alone sit.

Dr. Hinge: Would you like me to go and tell them we're both out?

Dame Hilda: Oh, don't be silly, Evadne. And anyway, it might be someone I'll be glad to see.

Maud: I say, Dame ‘ilda.

Dame Hilda: What is it, Maud, dear?

Maud: Can you come to the front door and sign?

Dame Hilda: Sign? Well, what is it, dear? Not someone else with a petition about the Sunday Market, I've already signed petitions both for and against it.

Maud: No! It's someone delivering somethin’ for the Doctor. And ‘e wants ‘is sheet signin’.

Dr. Hinge: That's all right, Maud, I’ll go, anyway, why don't you sign it yourself? You can write, can't you?

Maud: As good as most Doctor and better than some. But I ain't signing, not on behalf. I signed for a three-piece suite once on behalf of someone. And when it turned out to be just a two-piece ‘ad been delivered, who do you think got the blame?

Dame Hilda: It's always the way, I've learned never to PP.

Maud: See, I do someone a favour by signing on behalf, so's their suite ‘ad not ‘ave to be took back and brought all the way out again and them lose all that time when they might ‘ave been sitting on it. And what's the upshot? You'd think I'd lost their blessed chair. No, I ain't signing for what ain't mine, especially if it's yours, Doctor.

Delivery man: Oi, missus!

Dr. Hinge: I’ll have to go, Hilda. We can't leave the poor man standing on the step all day.

Dame Hilda: Oh, very well. But just make sure you come back here, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: Don't worry, I'll be back.

Dame Hilda: Incidentally, Maud, what is it that the man's bought for her?

Maud: I don't know, Dame ‘ilda. ‘e didn't know neither, ‘cause I asked ‘im. But it's in a cardboard box, it's long and thin and it's got ‘andle with care writ on it.

Dame Hilda: That doesn't sound the sort of thing Evadne usually gets. The last thing she had delivered was an anvil. Is the man local?

Maud: Oh, no, Dame ‘ilda. ‘e's come all the way from Berkhampsted. And don't expect to be back afore Friday?

Dame Hilda: Well, if Evadne keeps him on that step much longer he'll not be back this side of Christmas. What is she doing out there? Evadne! EVADNE!!

Maud: Ooer, don't say she's ‘opped it.

Dame Hilda: Pop your head round the door and see if she's still in the hall, would you, dear?

Maud: Very well, Dame ‘ilda. But I've an ‘orrible feeling she ain't.

Dame Hilda: Yes, I've an ‘orrible feeling she ain't an’ all.

Maud: We're right an’ all, she ain't.

Dame Hilda: What?

Maud: The front doors shut and I can't see ‘air nor ‘ide of ‘er, she's ‘opped it all right.

Dame Hilda:  Well, I'll be…. blowed! And she promised.

Maud: I say, Dame ‘ilda,

Dame Hilda: Yes.

Maud: You don't suppose she's gone off with that man from Berkhampsted do yer? ‘e ‘ad a lorry down be the gate.

Dame Hilda: Oh, no, I don't think so, dear. She never takes lifts from strangers, not that strangers ever offer them to her. Anyway, her handbags still sitting on the window sill there, she'd never go without that her police whistles in it.

Maud: Well, I bet she's took whatever it were ‘e brought ‘er to wherever she's going to do, whatever she's going to be doing with it.

Dame Hilda: Yes. Yes, I think I see what you mean. Well, I'll tell you one thing, dear, I am not putting this lot back on my own again. I'll find her if I have to ransack the place. I'll tell you what, now, you look downstairs and I'll look up, and the first one to find the Doctor can have her head on a plate.

Dame Hilda: It was a curious feeling trying to find Evadne. After all, both Maud and I are more accustomed to trying to lose her. But eventually, I found her. She was right at the top of the house in our big attic room and imagine my surprise when I walked in and I found Evadne with her eye glued to an astronomical telescope that she had poking out of the window.

{Attic room.}

Dame Hilda: Evadne. {Wheeze!} So there you are. Didn't you hear me calling you?

Dr. Hinge: No, I didn't, no.

Dame Hilda: Then you should go and have your ears syringed, you're obviously becoming as deaf as a post in your old age. And what on earth are you doing?

Dr. Hinge: I am preparing to observe the universe, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: So, what's all the hurry? The universe will still be there when you're finished putting all that music back?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, it must be nice to be so certain about things.

Dame Hilda: And where did you get that from anyway?

Dr. Hinge: I ordered it. There was an advertisement in one of the magazines I was reading at the dentist a few weeks ago.

Dame Hilda: I thought you were a bit quiet when you got home. I assumed it was the novocaine that had shut your mouth. But it was guilt, was it?

Dr. Hinge: Guilt? What have I got to feel guilty about? It's on approval. If I send it back within 14 days, I don't have to pay a penny.

Dame Hilda: And how much of the universe do you expect to be able to see in 14 days?

Dr. Hinge: That will depend on how often I'm interrupted, won't it?

Dame Hilda: And what will it cost you if you keep it?

Dr. Hinge: 100 pounds? Or thereabouts.

Dame Hilda: How much?

Dr. Hinge: About 200 and something pounds. But I can pay it off at £5 a week.

Dame Hilda: At that rate you'd never live to own it. And what are you hoping to see with it anyway?

Dr. Hinge: I’m not really very sure, I mean, if I decide to keep this, I should be able to see Halley’s comet with it. It's due to appear again in 1986, you know.

Dame Hilda: Oh, is it. And when was the last time it appeared?

Dr. Hinge: In 1910, it comes around every 76 years.

Dame Hilda: I thought you'd have been sick of the sight of it. May I have a look through that thing?

Dr. Hinge: No. Well... Well, you'll not see much while it's still daylight.

Dame Hilda: Do you mean the universe isn't there in the daytime?

Dr. Hinge: Didn't you learn anything at school?

Dame Hilda: Not a great deal about the universe, dear, no.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, go on then, have a look if you want to.

Dame Hilda: Thank you, mmm.... No, you're right. There's not much to look at up there, is there?​ Ooh, but doesn't it make the birds look big? Oh I say. If you swing it down, you get a lovely view of Stackton.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, that instrument is intended for use in scientific studies, not as an aid to peeping Toms.

Dame Hilda: Well, I don't know what it'll show you of Jupiter or Mars, but you can't half see well into the butchers. Oh, I say, oh, just look at that old rogue, I never knew he put bread in his sausages.

Dr. Hinge: Well, you don't know everything.

Dame Hilda: I will do now I've got this.

Dr. Hinge: You haven't got it, it's mine.

Dame Hilda: Oh, no, it isn't. You haven't paid for it. And until you have, we share it. I say, I do wish Mrs Wilkinson would clean her front windows.

Dr. Hinge: What does it matter to you whether she does or not?

Dame Hilda: Well, it's a bit of a waste having a telescope and not being able to see into Mrs Wilkinson's front room. Mind, the milkman's obviously there, I can see his crate hidden under the hedge.

Dr. Hinge: Now, Hilda, come away from that window.

Dame Hilda: Ooh, I say, doesn't this make the big house seem close? Oh, and there's Lorna Dyrenforth coming out of her front door. She's getting into her car, she's going to reverse out. Oh, no, she's not, no, she's going forward, straight into the garage door, bang! Oh, good old Lorna.

Dr. Hinge: She's a dreadful driver.

Dame Hilda: I wonder where she's off to. Ah, Ooh, now there's Major Dyrenforth. He's coming out of their side door and he's going to the dustbin, he's lifting the lid.

Dr. Hinge: This is beginning to sound like Mrs Dale’s Diary.

Dame Hilda: He's leaning in and he's taking something out. Did you hear what I said, Evadne? He's taking something out.

Dr. Hinge: Well, it is his rubbish, Hilda. I mean, he can do whatever he likes with it. What is it?

Dame Hilda: Well, it's an enormous bunch of flowers.

Dr. Hinge: Flowers?

Dame Hilda: About 20 or 30 pounds worth must be. Lilies, gladioli, tuber roses, camellias. All wrapped in cellophane with a huge red bow.

Dr. Hinge: Oh dear, they sound rather ostentatious. No wonder he hid them in the dustbin.

Dame Hilda: Now, where could he be going with that lot? He's trotting along the road. He's very jaunty in his step and a twinkle in his eye.

Dr. Hinge: Can you actually see the twinkle?

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes!

Dr. Hinge: It’s a jolly good telescope, isn't it? Oh, I do wish it would get dark.

Dame Hilda: I don't. Not until I know what the Major's up to.

Dr. Hinge: Where is he now?

Dame Hilda: He's vanished behind the Dutch barn. That's funny, very funny, he should have reappeared by now. Where could he have got to?

Dr. Hinge: You know who lives opposite the Dutch barn, don't you?

Dame Hilda: Naomi Mellinger.

Dr. Hinge: No wonder he had a twinkle in his eye.

Dame Hilda: She loves gladioli. And her husband's in Abu Dhabi. Oh, poor Lorna. Oh, wait a minute, here he comes again.

Dr. Hinge: Whatever he was up to he was darn quick about it.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, he's holding a completely different bunch of flowers. Naomi must be throwing a flower swapping party.

Dr. Hinge: What's he got now, then?

Dame Hilda: He's got a huge bunch of those gorgeous dahlias that Naomi grows and won't let any body have.

Dr. Hinge: Well, obviously he's got more charm than you have.

Dame Hilda: Impossible. What is he up to?

Dr. Hinge: Well, if he's up to no good, he's being rather conspicuous about it, wouldn't you say?

Dame Hilda: You know, I think he's coming here. I know, he probably wants us to hang onto the flowers that Naomi's given him so that Lorna doesn't find out she's given them to him. But why doesn't he just take them home and tell Lorna that Naomi sent them to her? I'll tell you why.

Dr. Hinge: Why?

Dame Hilda: Because if Naomi ever sent Lorna flowers, Lorna would know at once that something fishy was going on. And with Naomi's reputation, she'd know exactly how fishy that was.

Dr. Hinge: But why should Naomi give the Major flowers anyway?

Dame Hilda: I say, isn't it interesting? And I always thought that astronomy was dull.

{Door knocks.}

Dr. Hinge: Yes, who is it.

Major: All right if l come in, Ladies, Maud told me to come straight up..

Dame Hilda: Why, Major Dyrenforth, what a surprise!

Dr. Hinge: Yes, we haven't seen you for simply ages.

Major: Whatever do you call this, the Stackton observatory? Do you know, l used to have a telescope when l was a youngster. Didn't do much stargazing to tell you the truth. But we lived near the county cricket ground at the time, so l was able to see all the matches, free, gratis and for nothing as it were.

Dr. Hinge: Shame on you, Major.

Dame Hilda: And what can we do for you, Major?

Major: As a matter of fact, l come to beg a favour.

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes.

Major: Now, I’d like you to take this bunch of dahlias, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Oh, aren’t they beautiful. Where did you get them? They're almost as gorgeous as the ones Naomi Mellinger grows.

Major: And wouldn't you be surprised to hear that those actually are from Naomi?

Dr. Hinge: Yes. You'd be very surprised to hear that, wouldn't you, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: Well, yes. I've often wondered what one had to do to get a bunch of dahlias out of her.

Major: Give her something in return. That's what l decided.

Dame Hilda: Oooh.

Major: Something she likes even more than her dahlias. Can you guess?

Dame Hilda: Well, do you really think l should?

Major: How about an ostentatious bouquet of flowers wrapped up in cellophane.

Dame Hilda: Yes. And what else?

Major: A greetings card bearing the Mayoral coat of arms and a personal note from the Lady Mayoress herself.

Dame Hilda: Oh!

Dr. Hinge: Ah, that's foxed you hasn’t it, that was one thing you failed to observe, wasn't it Hilda?

Major: So you did witness my little charade, then, did you?

Dame Hilda: Well, l must admit, l did catch the occasional glimpse of it, Major. Oh, quite accidentally, you understand. l was looking for Venus, but l really didn't have the foggiest notion of where that might be, especially at this time of day.

Major: Perhaps I’d better explain, Hilda. You see, Lorna and the Lady Mayoress fell out last evening, over whose turn it was to organise the next old folks' outing. Well, you know how nasty those meetings can get.

Dr. Hinge: Oh the outings can get pretty rough as well. They were once asked to leave, Llandudno.

Major: Well, apparently last night, there was a frightful bust up. Lorna and the Mayoress both said a lot of things they didn't mean. Well, they meant them all right, but they shouldn't have said them. Not in front of witnesses. And the meeting broke up in disarray. Then this morning Lorna receives this huge bouquet, compliments of the town hall.

Dame Hilda: And no doubt on the rates.

Major: Lorna's sentiments exactly. Well, she exploded. She reckoned the Mayoress had deliberately chosen all her least favourite flowers and that if she was trying to apologise, she should have called personally. What's more, she was furious that she'd been pipped at the post in the gracious forgiveness stakes. So, into the bin, they went and out she stormed. Anyhow, l thought this was all a bit of a waste. So, l put my thinking cap on, and l thought, what Lorna would really like is some of Hilda's chrysanthemums.

Dame Hilda: Oh, I see. I wasn't so wide off the mark was I Evadne? It is a flower swapping party. So, Naomi gets the town hall tribute right up her rather vulgar street. I get her dahlias, of course, they’ll look lovely in my copper urn, if I can ever find it again, under all that music. And Lorna gets my chrysanths. Oh, lucky Lorna.

Major: That's it. In a nutshell. Lorna's always admired, your chrysanths.

Dame Hilda: Really? She's never said.

Major: Well, you know Lorna.

Dr. Hinge: We certainly do.

Major: Oh, they'll cheer her up no end. And that'll be doing me a big favour it'll stop her taking it out on me, you see.

Dame Hilda: Then help yourself, Major. You're welcome. I must admit, my blooms this year are even more impressive than usual.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, haven't I done well with them. And now perhaps I can re angle my telescope towards the heavens.

Major: I say, just have a little peep and see if Lorna's back yet, would you, Doctor?

Dr. Hinge: By all means. Oh, yes, she must be, her car’s in the drive. Oh, and look who's just turning in, it's the Mayor's car.

Major: Oh, perhaps she's going to apologise personally after all, I say, Lorna will be pleased.

Dame Hilda: But I bet the Lady Mayoress won’t, if she can't see her flowers prominently displayed somewhere.

Major: Good heavens, Lorna will kill me. She'll sneak to the bin and they won't be there. I must run. I do hope you'll excuse me, I just hope to god that Naomi hasn't got those blessed things into a vase yet.

Dame Hilda: If she has, dear, grab it and run on. The Lady Mayoress I rest will adore Naomi's taste in vases.

Major: Well, goodbye, then.

Dr. Hinge: Goodbye, Major.

Dame Hilda: Good luck. Isn't it absurd, the silly things that people get het up about.

Dr. Hinge: It really is, dear, isn't it?

Maud: I say, Dame ‘ilda.

Dame Hilda: Yes, Maud.

Maud: I'm off ‘ome now, I've done yer drawing room for yer.

Dame Hilda: Done what, dear?

Maud: I've bunged all yer books back. They’re all iggledy-piggledy, I’m afraid but at least they're off the floor.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, no!

Dame Hilda: Well, it's your own stupid fault, Evadne. It wouldn't have happened if you'd finished one job before starting another. Anyway, it's the first time I've not had to put those blessed things back on my own.

Dr. Hinge: Well, at least we shall be equal from now on.

Dame Hilda: What do you mean?

Dr. Hinge: Well, I mean neither of us will be able to find anything.

Dame Hilda: Well, I don't suppose it'll matter much. Not now we've got the telescope. Yes, come on, stand aside. I want to see how the Major gets on, for all his charm I wonder if Naomi will give him back his bunch of flowers.

Dr. Hinge: Well, if she doesn't, I know what Lorna will give him. And that is what I believe is called in common parlance, a bunch of fives.

Transcribed by Lorraine Taylor