Freddy and the flower girl

Freddy. Oh, very well: I'll go, I'll go. [He opens his umbrella and dashes off Strandwards, but comes into collision with a flower girl, who is hurrying in for shelter, knocking her basket out of her hands. A blinding flash of lightning, followed instantly by a rattling peal of thunder, orchestrates the incident].

The Flower Girl. Nah then, Freddy: look wh'y gowin, deah.

Freddy. Sorry [he rushes off].

The Flower Girl. [picking up her scattered flowers and replacing them in the basket] Theres menners f'yer! Te-oo banches o voylets trod into the mad. [She sits down on the plinth of the column, sorting her flowers].

The Mother. How do you know that my son's name is Freddy, pray?

The Flower Girl. Ow, eez ye-ooa san, is e? Wal, fewd dan y' de-ooty bawmz a mather should, eed now bettern to spawl a pore gel's flahrzn than ran awy athaht pyin. Will ye-oo py me f'them? [Here, with apologies, this desperate attempt to represent her dialect without a phonetic alphabet must be abandoned as unintelligible outside London].

The Daughter. Do nothing of the sort, mother. The idea!

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