{Drawing room.}

Dame Hilda: Evadne, Evadne, I'm back.

Dr. Hinge: And have you got Maud with you?

Dame Hilda: No, dear, I haven’t.

Dr. Hinge: Well, that's a blessing. Now, we've just got to get rid of mother and everything will be perfect.

Dame Hilda: I met the milkman in the high street, Evadne. He gave me this note.

Dr. Hinge: Burn it, dear. You never know whose bottle it's been in.

Dame Hilda: Oh, It's from Maud, dear. She gave it to the milkman and asked him to give it to me.

Dr. Hinge: Good heavens, no wonder that milkman's always late. If he’s delivering mail as well. I do hope that's not what they mean when they talk about the privatisation of the post office.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, do you want to hear what's happened to Maud or not, dear?

Dr. Hinge: She hasn't emigrated, has she?

Dame Hilda: No.

Dr. Hinge: Well, I can't think of anything else I want to hear about her.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, you might just as well listen, dear, because I'm going to tell you anyway. You know that cousin of hers who has the little boarding house in uh, what's the name, eerr…. Skegness?

Dr. Hinge: Yes.

Dame Hilda: Well, she apparently has gone down with food poisoning and Maud's gone up with Arthur to help her out. The cousin apparently has a very busy time at this time of year. According to Maud's note, she's in season.

Dr. Hinge: Food poisoning, you say?

Dame Hilda: Yes.

Dr. Hinge:  And Maud's gone to help out.

Dame Hilda:  Yes.

Dr. Hinge: Then I give it 48 hours before Skegness becomes a disaster area.

Dame Hilda: Of course Maud is just using that cousin of hers as an excuse, you know.

Dr. Hinge: An excuse for what?

Dame Hilda: Oh, it's as plain as the nose on your face, dear. She obviously didn't want to just walk out and not come back, because she knew I would be hurt and that it would churn me up. She knows how I hate being churned up. It does something peculiar to my cuticles. So she just made an excuse and left the village. She's one of nature's gentlemen is Maud. She's a perfect lady under the skin.

Dr. Hinge: Do you have any idea what you're talking about, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: Not really, Evadne. You see, I am churned up, and it's really hardly surprising what with you and Maud and your mother. All week I've been churning, churning, churning.

Dr. Hinge: You'd better try to relax, dear, before you curdle. I mean, I would hate you to turn into a butter mountain.

Dame Hilda: Not so much of the mountain, thank you.

Dr. Hinge: Incidentally, while you were down the road, I found out what mother's plans are.

Dame Hilda: How did you manage that?

Dr. Hinge: Well, I asked her point blank when she was going.

Dame Hilda: Very subtle, dear. And when is she going?

Dr. Hinge: She's going back to Scotland for the 12th.

Dame Hilda: The 12th what?

Dr. Hinge: St. Grouse's day, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, I know nothing what so ever about Scottish saints, dear. When is St. Grouse's day.

Dr. Hinge: The Grouse's shooting Hilda. The glorious 12th of August.

Dame Hilda: The 12th of August. But that's two weeks away. Oh, I don't think she should leave it that late. I'm sure I saw Grouse in the lane the other day. And it looked very ready to me.

Dr. Hinge: If you saw it in the lane, it was probably a partridge or a chicken. I mean, what sort of noise was it making?

Dame Hilda: Well, it wasn't going cock-a-doodle-do.

Dr. Hinge:  I mean, was it going...eaveit, eaveit, eaveit.

Dame Hilda:  No, it wasn't. If it had been, I'd have been worried.

Dr. Hinge: Then it wasn't a Partridge. And was it going...kduc, kduc, kduc!

Dame Hilda: No.

Dr. Hinge: What sort of noise was it making?

Dame Hilda: Wasn't making a noise at all. It was standing by the hedge perfectly, quietly. Anyway, what sort of bird does go...kduk, kduc, kduk?

Dr. Hinge: A pheasant when it's flushed?

Dame Hilda: I mean, this one didn't look flushed to me. But then how can you tell with their faces all covered in feathers?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda: you know perfectly well what I mean?

Dame Hilda: And I know perfectly well what a pheasant looks like, too. And it wasn't a pheasant.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, anyway, what does it matter what it was? The fact is that no game birds can be shot before the 12th of August. Hence, mother is going to Scotland on the 11th.

Dame Hilda: Oh, surely she ought to go up a bit before that, dear. Just to make sure she gets a good place.

Dr. Hinge: You don't have to queue. I mean, it's not the winter sales.

Dame Hilda: Well, why can't she go up and do a bit of salmon fishing while she's waiting? Or deer stalking? Or just a bit of shopping in Princess Street? There must be some things she can do there now. After all, people do go to Scotland before the 12th of August, don't they?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, but not the right people.

Dame Hilda: You're not being a great deal of help, are you, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: Oh oh, here comes mother now.

Maureen: Oh, Hilda my dear, you’re back. Well, where’s Maud?

Dame Hilda: She's in Skegness.

Maureen: Skegness? What in heaven's name is she doing in Skegness?

Dr. Hinge: Well, you didn't expect her to go where you told her to go, did you, mother?

Maureen: I didn't expect her to go anywhere, dear. I expected her to report for duty this morning as usual. You knew I really thought Maud and I were beginning to get along quite well together.

Dame Hilda: I don't think Maud thought you were, dear.

Maureen: I can't think why not.

Dame Hilda: Perhaps it was something to do with your calling her a stupid pig headed clumsy oaf!

Dr. Hinge: Just before you told her where to go.

Dame Hilda: And where to put her bucket?

Maureen: Well, if the stupid woman’s so damn sensitive she shouldn't be a servant.

Dame Hilda: Maud is not a servant Maureen. She's an old friend who helps out.

Maureen: Well, she’s not helping out now, is she? She's in Skegness.

Dame Hilda: Yes, dear, helping someone else out.

Maureen: Oh, well, that's not much of a help to us, is it? However, since you appear to hold me in some way responsible for her having deserted us, I shall stay and help out.

Both: What?

Maureen: Oh, I don't have to be in Scotland for the twelfth. I have my guns with me. There must be something I can shoot around here.

Dame Hilda: Not a thing, dear, no.

Dr. Hinge: No, not now Maud’s gone.

 Evadne: I would rather not hear any more unpleasant remarks about Maud, thank you.

Maureen: Why not? She's left you in the lurch, hasn't she?

Dame Hilda: No, Maureen. She has not. She's left me, Mrs. Earswick.

Dr. Hinge: And who is Mrs. Earswick?

Dame Hilda: I haven’t the foggiest idea, Evadne. But according to Maud's note, she lives in the village. She's an old friend of Maud's, and she's coming up this afternoon to start work at Maud’s suggestion.

Dr. Hinge: If she’s a friend of Maud's, heaven, help us.

Maureen: You'd best leave Mrs. Earswick to me, Hilda. I'll deal with her. And this time we'll start as we mean to go on. Mind, we'll need to get the place looking decent for her first. Do they not say that example is better than precept?

Dr. Hinge: They also say something about too many cooks, mother,

Maureen: Don't you worry your head about that side of things, dear. I’ll keep a very sharp eye on her when she's preparing meals? But first things first. Hilda, when did you last look in the cupboard under your Stairs?

Dame Hilda: Oh, ages ago, dear. I was looking for Evadne. She'd gone in with the gas man and she hadn’t come out.

Dr. Hinge: He was showing me how to read the meter, mother, and I was showing him my bulbs.

Dame Hilda: Well, whatever she was showing him, we got a very modest little bill that quarter.

Maureen: And when did you last look in your garden shed then, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: Oh, that was some time ago, too, looking for Evadne, again.

Maureen: And was she in there with the gas man as well?

Dame Hilda: No, she was in there with her hedgehogs.

Dr. Hinge: Operation Tiggywinkle, mother.

Maureen: What dear?

Dr. Hinge: I'd found a pair of hedgehogs in the garden. And I was trying to construct a nest box as described in the Henry Doubleday research association booklet, Operation Tiggywinkle.

Dame Hilda: I fancy there was just a hint of Tiggywinkle with the gas man as well.

Maureen: And what does Operation Tiggywinkle recommend for a hedgehog's nest box then? Empty bottles?

Dame Hilda: Bottles dear?

Maureen: Aye, Hilda, your shed’s full of bottles, did you not know? The cupboard under the stairs is full of bottles, the cupboard under the sink is full of bottles, even the wardrobe in my room is full of bottles. I've never seen so many empty bottles in my life, and I'm the director of a brewery.

Dr. Hinge: People give them to us, mother.

Maureen: Well, the normal practice, do you use to drink whatever's in them and then chuck them out?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, there's never anything in them, Maureen. They're empty when they're given to us.

Maureen: You must know some funny people.

Dr. Hinge: It's for my wine-making, mother. As soon as people hear that you make homemade wine, you can't go anywhere without someone giving you a bottle. It's like being in hospital.

Maureen: Well, I'll believe you, Evadne, but Mrs. Earswick may not be so daft. Heaven alone knows what she'll make of you two when she comes across all those empties.

Dame Hilda: Oh, good heavens, Evadne, I hadn't thought of that. She might be one of Maud's chapel friends. They're always the first to help you out when you're in trouble and usually the first to drop you back in it once you're out. It'll be all around the village in no time.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, all right. I'll get rid of the bottles, Hilda. I've got far too many of them anyway. I shall put them in bin sacks and put them out for the dustman.

Dame Hilda: Oh, don't be ridiculous. You know how those dustmen talk. That's how we found out about Mrs. Mellinger's tattoo.

Dr. Hinge: What do you suggest, then?

Dame Hilda: Perhaps we could offer them to the Navy.

Dr. Hinge: You mean, so they could slip messages in them and chuck them overboard when they’re sinking?

Dame Hilda: No, no, no, no, no, dear. But sailors love whittling things, then sticking them into bottles. That is how they while away the long hours at sea.

Dr. Hinge: They may have done in your day, dear, when they sailed round the Cape before the mast,

Dame Hilda: There is no call for rudeness, Evadne. At least I wasn't around when the Coracle ruled the waves.

Dr. Hinge: Well, you might as well have been, dear, you're a mental dinosaur. I mean, believe me, you'll not find many sailors these days wasting their time putting ships in bottles.

Dame Hilda: Then it's hardly surprising that there's too many empty bottles in the world.

Maureen: Now, now, now, now, girls, there's no sense in getting frayed tempers over a few bottles. Do you not have a bottle bank, locally?

Dame Hilda: Oh, that's an idea. Well, yes, there's a bottle bank outside the red lion, isn't there, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: Not any more, dear. It was stolen.

Dame Hilda: Mind, it’s just as well, I wouldn't really like to be caught outside the red lion of all places poking bottles into a bottle bank. There's something so unladylike about bottle banks.

Dr. Hinge: You could wear white gloves.

Dame Hilda: Oh, no, I don't like the sound of it, no, I mean, suppose we were spotted.

Maureen: Very well, Hilda. Why don't Evadne and I go? if you’ll let us take the car?

Dr. Hinge:  No, I'm sorry, dear. No, definitely. No. The last time I let you drive my car, you returned home with the roof stoved in, and the unlikely story that you had been jumped on by a sheep.

Maureen: And who’s fault was that. I didn't choose to live in the country.

Dr. Hinge: No, but you choose to come and stay in it often enough, though, don't you, mother?

Maureen: If I'm not welcome, Evadne, you've only to say.

Dr. Hinge: I've already said, haven't I?

Maureen: Yes, and just think yourself lucky, my girl, that I know you well enough not to take you seriously.

Dame Hilda: I tell you what, Evadne, we could go to the bottle bank down by the side of the library, or has that been stolen as well?

Dr. Hinge: No, that's still there.

Dame Hilda: I mean, it wouldn’t look suspicious, would it? I mean, if we were to be seen around the library?

Dr. Hinge: With 300 empty bottles come off of it, Hilda. Anyway, what about the noise as we heave them into the bottle bank? It'd be enough to waken the dead.

Dame Hilda: Then it's lucky they haven't got one outside the cemetery, isn't it?

Maureen: Perhaps if you consider going somewhat further afield and taking them somewhere where you're not known.

Dame Hilda: Oh, Maureen, dear. I hate to think there's any place where I'm not known.

Dr. Hinge: You know, that's really quite a sensible suggestion, mother.

Maureen: Yes, isn't it? And how very fortunate that you didn't send me packing before I was able to make it.

Dame Hilda: I know, Evadne, we'll drive to Bury St Edmonds.

Dr. Hinge: Why, Bury St Edmonds?

Dame Hilda: Evadne, the motto of Bury St Edmonds is, shrine of a King, cradle of the law. Mr. Pickwick stayed at the Angel inn there, and that wonderfully high spirited lady novelist, Vida, was born there in 1839. It Seems hardly likely that such a place would be without a bottle bank

And so we drove to Bury St Edmonds and I was quite right. It has several bottle banks, but they were all full. As were all the others we tried in a 20 mile radius. I had no idea that Suffolk was so full of homemade winemakers, or just outright tipplers. Anyhow, the upshot was we had to take our bottles home again. Well, when we eventually arrived back at the old manse, Maureen was waiting for us in the hall.

{Hall.}

Dr. Hinge: Oh, hello, mother.

Maureen: You've been one heck of a time, haven't you?

Dame Hilda: Well, we've driven almost 100 miles, dear, and we've still got the bottles in the back. We'll leave them there and try again tomorrow. We thought we might take a picnic lunch and make a day of it.

Maureen: Well, your Mrs. Earswick’s in the drawing room. I've started her off. I've given her a list as long as your arm the things that need doing. Some, she's agreed to. Others, it appears, will require further negotiation. Or someone to put their foot down hard, leave it to me. At least she makes a better cup of tea than Maud. It doesn't have bits of fluff floating on top. She'll do.

Dr. Hinge: We'll decide that. Mother,

Maureen: Please yourself, I have got things to do?

Dame Hilda: And what, do you suppose, she means by that?

Dr. Hinge: I don't know. Let's hope it's packing.

Dame Hilda: Well, come on, Evadne. Let's meet Mrs. Earswick.

{Drawing Room.}

Dame Hilda: Ah, Mrs. Earswick, we meet at last. I've heard so much about you. I'm Dame Hilda Bracket and this is Dr. Hinge.

Mrs. Earswick: Good afternoon, Ladies.

Dr. Hinge:  Good afternoon.

Mrs. Earswick: Now, I must make it quite plain that I don't usually do this sort of thing. But Mrs. Print, Maud, has been very good to me down the years. She was so sympathetic when I had my little op. And I just said I would, for her sake, help you out. ad interim, as it were, for the time being.

Dame Hilda: You’re locumtenens, eh? Mrs. Earswick, a deputy?

Dr. Hinge: Does the conversation have to be bilingual?

Mrs. Earswick: Now, there are certain things I don't do.

Dame Hilda: Oh, I'm so glad. I always think restraint is a great virtue.

Mrs. Earswick: I don't scrub for a start.

Dr. Hinge: Well, that's all right. We're not looking for a scrubber.

Mrs. Earswick: And I don't do lifting. Well, I can't now, not since my little op. Now, cleaning windows, depends. I don't mind downstairs and inside, but upstairs and outside? No.

Dame Hilda: Oh, no problem there, Mrs. Earswick. We do have a window cleaner.

Mrs. Earswick: And I don't do anything that involves taking my feet off the ground.

Dame Hilda: You mean like tight rope walking?

Mrs. Earswick: I mean like standing on steps or step ladders or boxes or chairs. I've known far too many people who’ve come a cropper through that sort of thing. Other people's ladders are never to be trusted. And orange boxes are not built to stand on.

Dr. Hinge: Perhaps we’d better start the other way around, Mrs. Earswick. What will you do?

Mrs. Earswick: Oh, all the usual things, Doctor. Like hoovering, and light dusting, and washing up. Though not the dinner things from the night before. I consider holding it over a slovenly habit, and I'll not condone it. But I don't see you as slovenly, Dame Hilda. If I may make so bold.

Dame Hilda: Oh, no, no, Mrs. Earswick. I have been called some things in my time, but never slovenly.

Mrs. Earswick: Incidentally, I noticed that you have a number of empty wine bottles in your broom cupboard.

Dame Hilda: Oh, good heavens, have we? Why didn't your mother think of looking in the broom cupboard, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Mother's never looked in a broom cupboard in her life, dear. She wouldn't know a broom if it fell on her.

Mrs. Earswick: Now, I had heard from Mrs. Print, er, Maud, about your little problem.

Dame Hilda: What problem?

Mrs. Earswick: Too many bottles.

Dame Hilda: Maud exaggerates, we may sip a glass of wine now and again, and take the teeniest little dry sherry before our dinner. And, of course, the Doctor does take advantage of nature's bounty to make homemade country wine.

Dr. Hinge: They're medicinal.

Dame Hilda: I'd say they are. No one would dream of drinking them for pleasure.

Mrs. Earswick: Well, you see, my dearest husband has not been any too well of late.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, I think I'm beginning to get your drift, Mrs. Earswick. You'd like a bottle of homemade wine for him, something that might do him a bit of good, eh?

Mrs. Earswick: Oh, no, no, he doesn't drink. Why, neither of us drink.

Dame Hilda: No, we thought you wouldn’t.

Mrs. Earswick: Which is why we're always on the lookout for empty bottles.

Dame Hilda: Oh, vigilantes, eh?

Mrs. Earswick: It's my husband's hobby, now that he's unable to get about much. He collects empty bottles, and he makes glasses out of them.

Dr. Hinge: That can't be very good for his eyes.

Mrs. Earswick: Not spectacles, Doctor, tumblers.

Dr. Hinge: Oh?

Mrs. Earswick: Well, it's really rather ingenious. You see, he puts a few inches of water into the bottle, then he pours a layer of oil on top of it, and then he plunges a red hot poker in.

Dame Hilda: Oh, is that legal?

Dr. Hinge: What, dear?

Dame Hilda: Isn't that a Molotov cocktail?

Dr. Hinge: Don't be silly, Hilda. It's a method of cutting the bottle. You see the difference in the conductive qualities of oil and water causes it to break off cleanly at the point of contact where the oil and water meet.

Dame Hilda: Ah, ha ha ha. Silly me, of course, it does.

Mrs. Earswick: He then smooths the top of the bottom, if you follow me, and makes up sets of tumblers. Oh, they sell quite well at the W.I dos and it keeps Arnold out of trouble.

Dame Hilda: Well, we've got loads of empty bottles in the car at the moment, for reasons which I'll not go into, but you're most welcome to them. Isn't she, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, Hilda, isn't she? I take it that’s your car in the drive, Mrs. Earswick?

Mrs. Earswick: Oh, yes.

Dr. Hinge: So if you’d like to give me your key, I'll transfer them over for you, right away.

Mrs. Earswick: Oh, that’s most kind of you Doctor, most kind... there.

Dr. Hinge: Thank you. I’ll not be a minute.

Mrs. Earswick: I hope you'll not mind my saying this, Dame Hilda, but I believe in being frank.

Dame Hilda: Yes.

Mrs. Earswick: I had heard a few things about the Doctor from Mrs. Print, er.. Maud, but she doesn't seem such a bad sort.

Dame Hilda: Oh, she's not, Mrs. Earswick, she’s not. But she and Maud, well, they're rather like your oil and water, except they don't need a red hot poker to reach breaking point. They're self-igniting, if you know what I mean.

Dr. Hinge: I say, Hilda, they've gone.

Dame Hilda: What have, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Our bottles, someone's taken all our bottles.

Dame Hilda: Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Evadne, and who would want to steal a load of empty bottles?

Dr. Hinge: Possibly the same person who stole the bottle bank from outside the red lion.

{Bang!}

Mrs. Earswick: What in heaven's name is that?

Dr. Hinge: It’s someone shooting!

Dame Hilda: If it's a terrorist attack, Evadne, find the cats.

Dr. Hinge: No, it’s worse, It's mother.

Dame Hilda: Well what's on earth is she's doing?

Dr. Hinge: Look through the window, dear. No, keep down. She's got the empties lined up all along the terrace wall just outside there and she's down the bottom of the garden, shooting at them.

Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne, how on earth shall we ever get rid of all that broken glass?

Dr. Hinge: I'll tell you how, Hilda. We'll make her pack it in her alligator skin cases and cart it away with her when she leaves, tonight!

{Bang!}

Dr. Hinge: I’m going out there.

Dame Hilda: Well, not yet, Evadne, Mrs. Earswick, Mrs. Earswick?

Mrs. Earswick: Down here, Dame Hilda!

Dame Hilda: Do you mind coming out from under the table, dear, and pass me that white table cloth?

Mrs. Earswick: Certainly, Dame Hilda. Oh, there you are.

Dr. Hinge: What do you want that for?

Dame Hilda: It's for you, dear, to wave. Maureen? Maureen? Evadne’s coming out under a flag of truce.