Dame Hilda: When it comes to spending money on herself, Evadne doesn't. Well, you've only to look at her. She's given a whole new meaning to the word dowdy. Not that she's a miser or anything. It's just that she's simply not interested in what she calls fripperies. I don't know what fripperies really are, but according to her I buy an awful lot of them. However, Evadne, does occasionally splash out, usually on something starkly utilitarian, like a second hand pair of life boat man's waders or a new chipping hammer for her oxyacetylene welding kit. Well, the upshot is that she has developed a very curious set of values. As I was reminded one morning recently, when we were having a bit of a clear out at our music emporium.

{Emporium.}

Dame Hilda: I say, Evadne, look what I’ve just found right at the back of this drawer.

Dr. Hinge: What is it? A dead cat.

Dame Hilda: Don’t be ridiculous. It's a feather boa, dear. It's the one that I bought at that sale in Brighton, oh, it must be four or five years ago now. You remember that day? I spent the afternoon at the sale, and you went off round the aquarium with the friends of the fish.

Dr. Hinge: Oh yes, yes, I remember.

Dame Hilda: And then in the evening we went to that little restaurant in The Lanes and they wouldn't let you in unless you left your bucket of seaweed outside. Oh, you were so cross. You know, I didn't think I'd still got this feather boa, I’d completely forgotten it.

Dr. Hinge: Well, why don't you just put it back where it was and forget you ever found it?

Dame Hilda:  Oh, I'm not going to stuff this back in the drawer.

Dr. Hinge: No, you're probably right. Chuck it out!

Dame Hilda: Chuck it out! Chuck it out! This once belonged to a very famous singer, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Who?

Dame Hilda: I can't remember off hand. But I know it was someone terribly famous. Someone like Jenny Lind, I think. It used to have a name tag on it at one time.

Dr. Hinge: It still has, Hilda. Look there, Dorothy Perkins!

Dame Hilda: Was she a singer?

Dr. Hinge: Probably. They named her rose after her.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, she must have been a good one then. All Melba got was a dessert.

Dr. Hinge: And toast.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, that's a bit crummy, isn't it? Ha, ha, ha!

Dr. Hinge: When you're quite finished, dear, can we please get on? Now, have you decided what you're going to do with that silly feathery thing?

Dame Hilda: Yes, I have. If it suits me, I'm going to take it home and wear it. You can't get feather boas these days for love nor money. There, now, how do I look in it?

Dr. Hinge: Well, if you really want to know, dear, you look as though you ought to be clog dancing in a gin palace with a pig's trotter in each hand.

Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne? You really have no soul at all, do you? Well, that settles it. I'm taking this home. I shall wear it when I'm reading Barbara Cartland. I'm sure she'd understand.

Dr. Hinge: Might I remind you that the object of today's little exercise was to go through the entire stock of this shop to throw out the rubbish and to reduce the price of any articles that have been in stock too long in preparation for our summer sale.

Dame Hilda: Funny you should say that, Evadne. You know, I've been thinking. I don't think we should have a sale at all.

Dr. Hinge: Oh? What had you in mind then?

Dame Hilda: An auction, dear. Then we don't need to price things at all. We can just bump them up as high as we can get them.

Dr. Hinge: But to hold a proper auction, dear, would be much more expensive. I mean, we'd have to print a catalogue, or take advertising space in several journals, hire a professional auctioneer.

Dame Hilda: Oh, no, we wouldn't need to hire an auctioneer, dear, there, look what I found in that drawer under the feather boa. A little wooden hammer. Going, going, gone. Sold to the gentleman with the bright blue eyes, the warm smile, and unless I'm very much mistaken, the toupee at the back there, oh no, it's at the front. Well, Evadne, what do you think?

Dr. Hinge: I think you'll ruin the business, and do stop waving that hammer about. You'll break something. Oh, good heavens, here comes Maud.

Maud: Oh, Dame ‘ilda don't. I beg yer don't.

Dame Hilda: What is the matter with you Maud?

Maud: Oh, I knows how very irritating the Doctor can be, and ‘eaven knows I'd be the last to defend ‘er, but she ain't worth swinging for.

Dame Hilda: What are you talking about, Maud?

Maud: ‘ave just made a fool o’ meself.

Dr. Hinge: Of course not, Maud, you did that years ago. But I must admit you've just raised your foolishness to new heights.

Dame Hilda: Evadne. If you're going to speak to Maud like that, I will hit you with my hammer.

Maud: Dame ‘ilda, I'm ever so sorry. What must you think of me? I should ‘ave knowed that no matter what, nothing would ever make you lose that sweet temper of yours.

Dame Hilda: Oh, thank you Maud.

Dr. Hinge: Yuck.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, Shut up.

Maud: ‘ceptin ‘er o’ course. Do you know, Dame ‘ilda, I mind the time as my Arthur raised ‘is ‘ammer at me.

Dame Hilda: What, dear?

Maud: Yes? ‘e only did it the once. I ‘ad it out of ‘is hand, afore ‘e knew what ‘ad ‘it ‘im. ‘e’s still got the dent in ‘is ‘ead. Just there, just above his ‘ear. That's why ‘e wears ‘is cap crooked.

Dame Hilda: You mean it slips, dear?

Maud: I mean ‘e wears it crooked to cover the dent in ‘is ‘ead.

Dr. Hinge: I always thought he was trying to look jaunty.

Maud: We’d not being married a week, and ‘e were out in the yard making a rabbit ‘utch.

Dame Hilda: Yes, the magic soon wears off, doesn’t it?

Maud: Now whether ‘e didn't ‘ear me coming up behind ‘im with a mug of boilin' ‘ot tea in me ‘and, I dunno. But there ‘e were with a plank o’ wood across our kitchen chair. One foot up ‘olding it steady, sawing away and very nearly through when I calls out, TEA UP ARTHUR!!

Dr. Hinge: Did he hear you all right?

Dame Hilda: Don't try to be sharp, Evadne. At least she doesn't mumble.

Maud: Well you should have seen ‘im jump. The plank snaps, the chair collapses, the saw goes through ‘is trousers and things. ‘e yells, I jumps and the ‘ot tea goes all over ‘is ‘ands. That's when ‘e picks up the ‘ammer.

Dr. Hinge: Now Maud, did you come down here for a reason or simply to to regale us with bizarre tales of life with Arthur?

Maud: If you must know, Doctor, I come down ‘ere to scrub you out.

Dr. Hinge: I beg your pardon?

Dame Hilda: I sometimes feel I'd like to do that.

Maud: Dame ‘ilda asked me to give the place a good scrub out. So’s it's all spick and span for your sale.

Dame Hilda: Well as a matter of fact, there's been a change of plan, we're not going to have a sale now.

Maud: Oh, so you'll not need scrubbing out then?

Dame Hilda: We're going to have an auction instead.

Maud: So, will you need scrubbing out or not then?

Dame Hilda:  Well, after a good deal of argy-bargy, I finally got my way. Evadne, agreed to have an auction and we were scrubbed out. Mind, I rather wish we hadn't been. Maud makes such a mess when she scrubs and it took a good deal of persuasion to get Evadne to clear up after her. Anyhow, within about a week, we'd sorted the stock into lots. Had a catalogue duplicated, mailed copies to anyone we could think of, including by mistake, ourselves. We had placed advertisements in the press, and with three days still to go, decided to hold a little dress rehearsal.

Dame Hilda:  Right, Evadne, are you ready, dear?

Dr. Hinge: I'm ready, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Then let's begin. Now, dead on 11 o'clock, Maud will pull open those red velvet curtains at the back. And I will sweep out. I shall move graciously towards the podium, smiling, nodding, and generally acknowledging the assembly.

Dr. Hinge: Would you like me to play The entry of the Gladiators, for you? I mean, then you could trot around the ring a couple of times and make it like a horse show.

Dame Hilda: If you're going to be sour, dear, I’d sooner you weren't there, I really would. Mind you, it might be an idea. Yes, on second thoughts, you could play something when I enter. How about Hello Dolly?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, I think you'll find that you'll be able to dispense with all the theatricality, dear, or do you imagine that Christie's was founded by the minstrels?

Dame Hilda: Flair, dear, flair, that's what they call it, the old razzmatazz. This auction is going to be one to remember.

Dr. Hinge: Then heaven help us.

Dame Hilda: Now, having arrived at the podium, I shall say good morning, my Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Dame Hilda Bracket, and I am your auctioneer.

Dr. Hinge: Do you imagine they're going to care?

Dame Hilda: There's no need to be miffy, Evadne, you won't be left out. I shall introduce you as well. I shall say, and the gaunt and faintly sinister figure dressed in black, who you see hunched over the desk to my left? is Dr. Evadne Hinge.

Dr. Hinge: Thank you. Hilda, If we're not going to take these rehearsals seriously, I think I'll go home and spray the greenfly.

Dame Hilda: Any particular colour? Ha, ha, ha!

Dr. Hinge: That's it! I’m off!

Dame Hilda: Oh, don't be ridiculous, Evadne, I'm taking it perfectly seriously, dear. Now, do come back. And why aren't you hunched over your desk? That's where you should be when I introduce you.

Dr. Hinge: I was supposed to be acting the part of a buyer, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Yes, but on the day.

Dr. Hinge: On the day, I shall be hunched over my desk.

Dame Hilda: Don't you want to practice your hunching then?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, we wouldn't need to practice at all if we had a professional auctioneer. This is for your sake, not mine. Now, can we please get on with it?

Dame Hilda: Then, well, having bid them welcome, I commence the sale. I say, and we start with lot number one. Well​?

Dr. Hinge: So far, so good.

Dame Hilda: I mean, well, come on, Evadne. I've started the auction. If you're a buyer, make a bid, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Well, what is lot number one?

Dame Hilda: You know perfectly well what it is.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I do. But I'm pretending to be a buyer who doesn't.

Dame Hilda: Well, you've got a catalogue, haven't you?

Dr. Hinge: No, I haven't.

Dame Hilda: Then you'd better get one, hadn't you? There's a pile of them on that shelf over there. Why do you have to be the only person in this entire room who hasn't got a catalogue?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, let's assume that I've arrived late. I've left my catalogue at home.

Dame Hilda: Yes.

Dr. Hinge: And now all the catalogues have gone.

Dame Hilda: Right, then you'll have to get a peek at somebody else's catalogue, won’t you?

Dr. Hinge: What I'm trying to say, Hilda is, it is customary for the auctioneer to tell people what each lot consists of.

Dame Hilda: Oh, well, if they want spoon feeding. Lot number one, the grand piano, which in case you haven't recognised it, is the big wooden thing with three legs standing over there, with a number one chalked on it.

Dr. Hinge: I wouldn't adopt that attitude if I were you Hilda. You'll only get people's backs up. Now, why don't you just start again?

Dame Hilda: Very well. Lot number one, the grand piano. Evadne, do pay attention, dear, I said lot number one, the grand piano.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I heard you. Well, how much?

Dame Hilda: How much what?

Dr. Hinge: How much is the bidding going to start at, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: Oh, I'm supposed to be a mind reader as well am I? How would I know? You tell me.

Dr. Hinge: Well, isn't there a reserve on it?

Dame Hilda: No, just two brass candle sticks and a music stand.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, you know perfectly well what I mean. Now start again and do try to get it right this time. Announce the lot number, tell us what the lot consists of, and tell us what you think the bidding should start at. In the case of that piano, let's say 100 pounds.

Dame Hilda: Right! For the umpteenth time, lot number one, the grand piano. We'll start the bidding at 100 pounds. Now what's the matter?

Dr. Hinge: I'm not bidding.

Dame Hilda: I noticed that, dear. But why aren't you bidding?

Dr. Hinge: Because I'm not prepared to pay 100 pounds for that piano.

Dame Hilda: Why ever not?

Dr. Hinge: Because it's too much for me.

Dame Hilda: Honestly, Evadne. What kind of idiot are you supposed to be? You arrive late, you leave your catalogue at home and now it turns out you haven't got any money. I do hope we're not going to get many like you.

Dr. Hinge: You'll probably get loads like me. That's just what I'm trying to prepare you for.

Dame Hilda: Well, if we get loads like you we may as well put the shutters up? All we're going to get is a lot of mouth and a few coppers for the catalogues. Why didn't you tell me to say 100 pounds then if it's too much?

Dr. Hinge: Look, Hilda, there might be someone who'll be willing to pay that.

Dame Hilda: How will I know?

Dr. Hinge: Well, you won’t until he bids.

Dame Hilda: And supposing he doesn’t?

Dr. Hinge: Exactly, that's what I'm testing you on.

Dame Hilda: So I've already said I want 100 pounds and the chances are that no one's willing to pay it. So I'm standing with egg on my face. What happens next?

Dr. Hinge: Well, you reduce the price. And you keep reducing it until someone does bid.

Dame Hilda: This is beginning to sound rather counterproductive. I thought bidding always went up. However, we'll try again. Lot number one? The grand piano. Who’ll offer me 99 pounds.

Dr. Hinge: You have to come down a bit more than that.

Dame Hilda: Very well then 95.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, don't be ridiculous, Hilda. Start at 75.

Dame Hilda: It's worth more than 75.

Dr. Hinge: You’ll probably get more than 75.

Dame Hilda: Then why are we wasting all this time?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, You wanted an auction. I was always for sale.

Dame Hilda: Yes, and you needn't think you're getting me to change my mind now. I haven't banged my hammer once yet. So we'll say 75 pounds. Now come on, come along, Evadne, make a bid... Well?

Dr. Hinge: I just made one.

Dame Hilda: I didn't hear you.

Dr. Hinge: One doesn't shout, dear. It's not a street market, I simply inclined my head.

Dame Hilda: I didn't notice.

Dr. Hinge: And that is why we should get a professional auctioneer. He would know what to look for. You see, if I incline my head, ever so slightly like that, that indicates that I am bidding, like that. But of course other people have other methods, some may tap their noses, some may pull their earrings. Well, the women anyway. And of course I may just raise an eyebrow, and some will scratch their chin. You see, the art is to be able to distinguish those who are bidding from those who are merely itching or twitching.

Dame Hilda: Do you mean to tell me that if somebody is standing right at the back chooses merely to waggle his ears? I am supposed to spot him.

Dr. Hinge: That's exactly what I mean, Hilda. Then of course, no doubt once the people at the back realise that you are not a professional auctioneer and that your eye sight is not what it was, alas, they will do something more obvious, like, wave their catalogues or raise their fingers at you.

Dame Hilda: If anyone does that to me they're out.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, Hilda, we've got a customer.

Dame Hilda: Oh, Japanese, by the look of him. We don't often get Japanese in here.

Dr. Hinge: It is the tourist season, dear.

Dame Hilda: Yes, but we're usually lucky if we get a cycling party out from Bury St Edmonds.

You better leave him to me, dear. My upbringing was more cosmopolitan.

Dr. Hinge: You mean you’ve knocked around more.

Dame Hilda: I mean, Evadne one cannot take leading roles in The Mikado, The Geisha and Chu chin chow, without acquiring a very strong insight into the oriental mind and character. Don't forget, dear. I have spent a good deal of my working life in kimonos and tea houses. Now, just you watch me. Good morning.

Customer: Ah, good morning.

Dame Hilda:  Chon kina, chon kina, chon chon, kina,kina, Nagasaki, Yokohama, Haladatè, hoi...

Customer: Ah, The Geisha, great socceroo, whopping hit, book by Owen Hall, music by dear old Sydney Jones, opened at Daly’s theatre on 25th April, 1896.

Dame Hilda: Well, how very nice to meet someone in the business.

Customer: Oh, no, not in the business. Humblest apologies. Permit me to, introduce myself. My name is Masayuki Sakamoto. I am a curator of Museum of English, Musical and Theatrical Arts, which is being established under auspices of the University of Yokohama. You, I assume, are a Dame Hilda Bracket?

Dame Hilda: Yes, dear, I am. You’ve heard of me in Yokohama?

Customer: No, I heard of you in a Tottenham court road.

Dr. Hinge: Your fame is spreading, Hilda. How cosmopolitan can you get?

Dame Hilda: Presumably, Mr. Sakamoto. You’ve also heard of my colleague here, Dr. Hinge?

Customer: Ah…...no.

Dame Hilda: So much for your fame, Evadne!

Customer: I'm much honoured to make acquaintance of a colleague of a great lady.

Dame Hilda: Oh, isn't he sweet? Now you say Tottenham Court Road, Mr. Sakamoto. Now let me see, who do I know in the Tottenham Court Road?

Customer: Popeye Oraton.

Dame Hilda: Popeye Oraton?

Dr. Hinge: Popeye Oraton.?

Both: Poppy Ollerton!

Dame Hilda: Bless him. I thought she was dead.

Dr. Hinge: She's not far off if she's in Tottenham Court Road.

Dame Hilda: You mean in the little bookshop?

Customer: Little bookshop in Tottenham Court Road. She say, you go Stackton Tressel, You see Dame Hilda Bracket, you tell her Popeye sent you. You purchase much of interest for new Museum of English Musical and Theatrical arts. So you sell, I buy.

Dame Hilda: Well, that sounds fair enough. Why don't you just browse around and see what you want?

Customer:  Thank you so much. I browse, I choose, then I write big fat check.

Dame Hilda: That sounds absolutely splendid.

Dr. Hinge: Now just a minute, Hilda. You do realise you can't sell any of the lots that are in the auction catalogue, don't you?

Dame Hilda: Oh, I know that, Evadne, don't be such a fuss-pot. Anyway, there's plenty of other things for him to buy.

Dr. Hinge: Maybe, but what he appears to be most interested in at the moment is one of the lots.

Customer: Oh, excuse me. How much you want for this pile of music?

Dame Hilda: Well, as a matter of fact, dear, that's a lot.

Customer: I want a lot of music. I have a lot of money, so what's the problem?

Dame Hilda: Well, put like that, dear, I don't think there is one. Not that can't be resolved. So you just choose anything you want and I'll give you a fair all in price for it all afterwards.

Customer: Oh, very, very much. Thanks.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, you can't really let him have that stuff.

Dame Hilda: Why not? It's for sale, isn't it?

Dr. Hinge: It's for auction, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Anyway, whatever he buys, we can replace it before Friday, luckily, I worded the catalogue pretty vaguely.

Dr. Hinge: Well, be it on your own head.

Dame Hilda: It always was anyway, so where's the difference?

Customer: Excuse me. I like everything I see. I buy a lock, stock, and barrel. Except I don't want grand piano.

Dame Hilda: We're never going to be able to sell that grand piano, dear.

Customer: Shall be most pleased to display entire collection in special room, which with gracious permission shall dedicate to your honourable self and named the Dame Hilda Bracket room.

Dame Hilda: I tell you what, Mr. Sakamoto, you shall have a recording of me singing one of the songs from the Mousmé. How about that?

Customer: Oh, should be most deeply honoured?

Dame Hilda: Evadne, Dig out the score then and find that song Honourable Jappy bride would you? Then get to the piano and stand by.

Dr. Hinge: Very well, though what they're going to make of you in Japan, heaven alone knows.

Dame Hilda: Well, they'll understand your bit all right. I mean, you managed to make everything sound like chopsticks. Now, Mr. Sakamoto, perhaps you would help us to add authenticity. I just thought that perhaps when I give the signal, you might oblige me with a bang. On that big gong over there.

Customer: Also, with the greatest pleasure, Sakamoto considered one of the best gong bangers in Yokahama. Gong banging in Sakamoto's blood.

Dame Hilda: Well, isn't that wonderful? Now, where's my little wooden hammer? Ah, yes, there we are. There we are, Mr. Sakamoto. All right, everybody. Are you all standing by? Ready in studio? We are going for a take. Going, going, gong.

{Gong bangs.}