BRAMSON.
OLIVIA (_sitting left of the table_): I expect it is a bit of an
event.
MRS. TERENCE (_leaning over the table, searching in her paper_):
'E says they're sellin' like ninepins--
MRS. BRAMSON (_turning pages over, impatiently_): Where is it?...
MRS. TERENCE: Oh, I expect it's nothing after all....
OLIVIA: Here it is.... (_Reading_) "Disappeared mysteriously ...
woods round the village being searched" ... then her description ...
tall ... blonde....
MRS. TERENCE: Blonde? I should think she is ... I can't find it!
OLIVIA: Here's something ... "A keeper in the Shepperley woods was
closely questioned late last night, but he had heard nothing, beyond a
woman's voice in the woods on the afternoon in question, and a man's
voice, probably with her, singing 'Mighty Lak a Rose.' Enquiries are
being pursued...."
MRS. BRAMSON: "Mighty Lak a Rose." What rubbish!...
MRS. TERENCE: Oh yes.... It's the 'eadline in this one. (_Humming the
tune absently as she reads_) "Don't know what to call you, but
you're mighty lak a rose." .
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