Lisa: Beautiful dinnerware, Mrs. Parkfield.
Mrs. P: Thank you, Lisa. They were made for the finest family in
Britain.
Mr. P: I don't know how _we_ ended up with them.
Lisa: [thinking] Uh oh. Should I laugh? Was that dry British wit, or
subtle self-pity? Ooh, they're staring at me, better respond.
[laughs very tentatively]
Mr. P: Oh, it's good to hear a boisterous American laugh!
Lisa: And I love that painting. Judging by the clothes, I'd say...
seventeenth century?
Mrs. P: Actually, Lisa, it's just Uncle Eldred.
Eldred: [fishing in an empty fishbowl] I get me brain medicine from the
National Health!
-- Neither dry British wit _nor_ subtle self-pity,
"Lisa's Wedding"
