Prism: Cecily?
     More intellectual pleasures await you, my child.
     You should put away your diary, Cecily. I really don't see why
     you should keep a diary at all.
Cecily: I keep a diary in order to enter the wonderful secrets of my life.
      If I didn't write them down, I should probably forget all about
Prism: Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary that we all carry about with
Cecily: I believe memory is responsible for nearly all these
      three-volume novels people write nowadays.
Prism: Do not speak slightingly of the three-volume novel, Cecily.
     I wrote one myself in earlier days.
Cecily: Did you really, Miss Prism? I hope it did not end happily.
Prism: The good ended happily and the bad unhappily. That is what
     fiction means.
Cecily: Hmm.
Prism: Do you work, child. These speculations are profitless.
Cecily: But I see dear Dr. Chasuble coming through the garden.
Prism: Oh, Dr. Chasuble!
     This is indeed a pleasure.
Dr. Chasuble: And how are we today? Miss Prism, you are, I trust, well.
Cecily: Miss Prism has just been complaining of a slight headache.
      I think it would do her so much good to have a short stroll
      with you in the park, Dr. Chasuble.
Prism: Cecily! I have not mentioned anything about a headache.
Cecily: No, dear Miss Prism, I know that, but I felt instinctively that
      you had a headache. I was thinking about that and not my
      German lesson when the rector come.
Dr. Chasuble: I hope, Cecily, you are not inattentive.
Cecily: I am afraid I am.
Dr. Chasuble: That's strange. Were I fortunate enough to be Miss
           Prism's pupil, I would hang upon her lips.
           I... I... I spoke metaphorically.
Prism: Oh.
Dr. Chasuble: My metaphor was drawn from... bees.
Prism: Oh.
Cecily: Hmm.
Dr. Chasuble: Ahem. I shall, um, see you both, no doubt, at evensong.
by hamasayuta | 2007-02-13 10:07 | Earnest words