Luncheon

"Mr Boxe," says Miss Pond, "the tray of sandwiches you ordered has been delivered."

"Oh, ripping!" says Mr Boxe, "I'm famished."

"To be specific," says Miss Pond, "the tray of sandwiches you ordered has arrived from Australia."

"I hope they won't have gone stale," says Mr Boxe. "I placed the order a month ago."

"Mr Boxe," says Miss Pond, suppressing an almost imperceptible quiver of the beak, "One hates to be inquisitive, but as the bookkeeper I must ask...why?"

"Sundays are Enid's day out," says Mr Boxe. "And I don't know where she keeps the bread knife."

"I MEAN--" says Miss Pond, "Ahem. I mean to ask, why sandwiches from Australia?"

"They're very good sandwiches," says Mr Boxe.

"No doubt," says Miss Pond, "but perhaps a tad more expensive than necessary."

"Oh no," says Mr Boxe. "Heaps more expensive than necessary."

"In that case," says Miss Pond, "I shall leave you to your sandwiches and be off home to see if my macaroons have arrived from Thibet."

And she leaves, closing the door firmly, perhaps too firmly, behind her.

"Whimsical creature," says Mr Boxe. "One can get perfectly good macaroons from Gibraltar."