Ex. 13 a).
... George said his watch went wrong one evening, and stopped at a quarter past eight. He didn't know this at the time because, for some reason or other, he forgot to wind it up when he went to bed.
... It was in the winter when this happened, very near the shortest day, and a week of fog into the bargain, so the fact that it was still very dark when George woke in the morning was no guide to him as to the time.
... It was a quarter past eight. "Angels and ministers of grace defend us!" exclaimed George, "and here have I got to be in the City by nine. Why didn't somebody call me? Oh, this is a shame!" And he flung the watch down, and sprang out of bed, and had a cold bath, and washed himself and dressed himself, and shaved himself in cold water because there was not time to wait for the hot, and then rushed and had another look at the watch.
Whether the shaking it had received in being thrown down on the bed had started it, or how it was, George could not say, but certain it was that from a quarter-past eight it had begun to go, and now pointed to twenty minutes to nine.
George snatched it up, and rushed downstairs. In the sitting-room, all was dark and silent: there was no fire, no breakfast.
... Then he dashed on his great-coat and hat, and, seizing his umbrella, made for the front door ... and ran out.
He ran hard for a quarter of a mile, and at the end of that distance it began to be borne in upon him as a strange and curious thing that there were so few people about, and that there were no shops open.
... Then, with his watch still in his hand, he went up to the policeman, and asked him if he knew what time it was.
"What's the time?" said the man, eyeing George up and down with evident suspicion, "why, if you listen you will hear it strike."
George listened, and a neighbouring clock immediately obliged.
"But it's only gone three!" said George in an injured tone, when it had finished.
"Well, and how many did you want it to go?" replied the constable.
"Why, nine," said George, showing his watch.
"Do you know where you live?" said the guardian of public order severely.
George thought, and gave the address.
"Oh! that's where it is, is it?" replied the man; "well, you take my advice and go there quietly, and take that watch of yours with you; and don't let's have any more of it."
(From "Three Men in a Boat" by Jerome K. Jerome)
Harry: Nora! Nora!
Nora: (Coming into the room.) Yes, what is it now, Harry?
Harry: Oh, there you are. Look here, Nora, I'm tired of lying here on my back with nothing to do. I hate doing nothing.
Nora: Don't be silly, Harry. You've got a temperature, and staying in bed is the only sensible thing to do. Now just be quiet, and stop preventing me from doing my housework.
Harry: No, seriously, Nora, 1 can't bear it. Lying flat on my back!
Nora: Well then, try lying on your stomach for a change!
Harry: Stop being funny. I'm going to get up. There! Look, I'm standing up. I'm quite all right. What's the use of staying in bed?
Nora: I think you're being very silly. You'll only make your temperature go up again.
Harry: It's no use talking, Nora-being ill doesn't suit me.
Nora: No-and trying to nurse you doesn't suit me!
Harry: Now don't be bitter about it. You know I'm grateful to you for looking after me. But you mustn't try to keep me in bed like a naughty boy.
Nora: Well, you began it by behaving like a naughty boy!
Harry: I'm all against this staying in bed for no reason.
Nora: Harry, being ill is a reason ... Now don't stand by that window and catch another cold ... Let me see, half past eleven.
Harry: Why do you keep looking at the clock?
Nora: I'm expecting Mother-she's coming over for the day.
Harry: Good heavens! I didn't know that.
Nora: Yes, I think she has something she wants to talk to you about.
Harry: Oh heavens! Has she? (groans) ... You know, Nora, I do feel a bit ill; perhaps I had better get back to bed.
Nora: (Disingenuously.) Oh, what a pity! I thought perhaps you might stay up to see her.
Harry: (To himself.) That's the very reason I'm getting back into bed!
Nora: What did you say?
Harry: Oh, er-nothing.
(From "Meet the Parkers", Tartu, 1961)
Harry: We shall be awfully late home if that No. 12 bus doesn't come soon ... Let's stand in this doorway out of the wind.
Nora: All right, but we must be careful not to miss the bus ... How did you enjoy the film?
Harry: I'd never have gone if I had known it was going to be so silly.
Nora: Why, what was silly about it?
Harry: Well, no sane man would have married that other girl so soon after he had murdered his wife. It was sure to make people suspicious.
Nora: If he had been sane he wouldn't have murdered her! Besides the girl wouldn't have waited for him if he hadn't asked her immediately.
Harry: All the better for him if she hadn't!
Nora: Yes, but then he wouldn't have paid for his crime. Anyhow, I'd have enjoyed the film much more if Elsa Hollywood had been in it instead of Linda Spangle.
Harry: And I'd have enjoyed it more, if we hadn't gone at all.
Nora: (Sharply.) And I'd have enjoyed it more, if you hadn't been so rude to that woman in front.
Harry: Well, I shouldn't have been rude to her if she had stopped chattering when I asked her.
Nora: I wish you'd behave better in public places.
Harry: I behave better! I like that! Why, if that woman had ... (Sound of bus starting up.) But look, isn't that a No. 12 bus just going?
Nora: Yes, it is, and we've missed it after all. We should have seen that bus, Harry, if you hadn't been so busy quarrelling.
Harry: (In injured tones.) Really, Nora, I think it would have been much better if I had stayed at home to night and let you go to the cinema alone.
(From "Meet the Parkers", Tartu, 1961) 300
You see, it was in this way: we were sitting in a meadow, about ten yards from the water's edge, and we had just settled down comfortably to feed. Harris had the beefsteak pie between his knees, and was carving it, and George and I were waiting with our plates ready.
"Have you got a spoon there?" said Harris. "I want a spoon to help the gravy with."
The hamper was close behind us, and George and I both turned round to reach one out. We were not five seconds getting it. When we looked round again, Harris and the pie were gone.
It was a wide, open field. There was not a tree or a bit of hedge for hundreds of yards. He couldn't have tumbled into the river, because we were on the water side of him, and he would have had to climb over us to do it.
George and I gazed all about. Then we gazed at each other... .
"I suppose the truth of the matter is," suggested George, "that there has been an earthquake."
And then he added, with a touch of sadness in his voice: "I wish he hadn't been carving that pie."
With a sigh, we turned our eyes once more towards the spot where Harris and the pie had last been seen on earth; and there, as our blood froze in our veins and our hair stood up on end, we saw Harris's head-and nothing but his head-sticking bolt upright among the tall grass, the face very red, and bearing upon it an expression of great indignation.
George was the first to recover.
"Speak!" he cried, "and tell us whether you are alive or dead-and where is the rest of you?"
"Oh, don't be a stupid ass!" said Harris's head. "I believe you did it on purpose."
"Did what?" exclaimed George and I.
"Why, put me to sit here-darn silly trick! Here, catch hold of the pie." And out of the middle of the earth, as it seemed to us, rose the pie-very much mixed up and damaged; and, after it, scrambled Harris-tumbled, grubby, and wet.
He had been sitting, without knowing it, on the very verge of a small gully, the long grass hiding it from view; and in leaning a little back he had shot over, pie and all.
(From "Three Men in a Boat", by Jerome K. Jerome)
"This way for the Dover boat."
"Have your passports ready, please."
"Pass up the gangway."
"First class to the right, second class to the left."
"Here we are. Would you like to stay up on deck or go down below?"
"Oh, I don't know. I'm not much of a sailor."
"Oh, you won't be sea-sick today. The sea is perfectly calm. We're sure to have a good crossing. I'll get a couple of deck chairs, up here, in the sun."
"Oh, well, I'll risk it. But if the worst comes to the worst, don't blame me."
"Do you travel much?"
"Not more than I can help by sea. I've crossed the channel once before but frankly I did not enjoy it."
"Why don't you fly across?"
"I think I shall one of these days. It couldn't possibly be worse than a really bad sea crossing."
"I can see the English coast already, can you?"
"Yes, just. Well, I suppose we'd better get ready for landing."
"I say, you haven't got anything dutible, have you? If you have, you'd better declare it. Whatever you do, don't try to bribe the customs officer or you'll get into trouble."
"I don't think I'm quite as foolish as that. As a matter of fact, I don't think I have anything to declare, Still, thanks all the same,"