BUBBA: My age then, I couldn’t believe it—a grown-up and a friend of Nancy’s—I could see her givin’ you spelling words to write out three times at the pub.

JOSEF: It would have been most useful.

BUBBA: I mean, they prob’bly told me how it was, that you were foreign, but I can’t remember that. The only other thing comes back to me was some lines at the bottom of the page. Didn’t make much sense—something about a traveller.

JOSEF: [drily] Was a translation, I expect. Clearly not a good one.

As BUBBA looks askance:

At the time, I was translating German poems into English for the exercise.

BUBBA: Oh well, different if it was a poem. Nancy’s fond of poems.

JOSEF: Yes.

BUBBA: Made me learn a lot of poetry. A lot of Shelley.

JOSEF: Made me learn a lot of Shelley, too.

BUBBA is interested.

Not sitting at a desk—she used to talk to me across the bar. Tell me books and poems that she liked, and I would make a note of them.

BUBBA: She’s very good at that—honestly. My aunties say she should’ve been a teacher. That’s what she wants me to be. A teacher, or a matron of a hospital, or head of something in the Treasury. [An apologetic smile.] It’s a joke, I think, about the Treasury.

JOSEF: [smiling in return] Who knows? A Treasurer who can quote from Shelley—would be very nice.

ROO and BARNEY come swiftly but quietly onto the front verandah, BARNEY hiding something under his overcoat.

BUBBA: And you—you’re goin’ to the university, Ol says?

JOSEF: What I hope. But there’s a Jewish proverb—if you look up to the heights, then hold your hat—

But he no longer has BUBBA’s attention. ROO has opened the street door, and she rushes up to the hallway with an enthusiastic greeting for the arrivals.

BUBBA: Hey, you’re early. What about the pub? Didn’t you—?

BARNEY: Ssh now, keep it quiet. Who’s home?

BUBBA: Nobody. Just me, and—

She gestures towards JOSEF in the background.

BARNEY: How about the telephone?

BUBBA: Didn’t come. That’s why I’m here. In case the feller—

BARNEY produces from under his overcoat a dingy-looking telephone handset, with a length of flex attached.

What’s that?

BARNEY: What does it look like?

BUBBA: Golly.

BARNEY: [rubbing it against his sleeve] Needs a good clean-up, of course.

BUBBA: But that won’t work. You can’t just—where’d you get it?

BARNEY: [heading for the kitchen] Promoted it from Royal Park.

BUBBA: You can’t just plug it in, y’know. [Following him off] It’s got to be connected—properly, with a number—

ROO, grinning, removes his slouch hat and overcoat, tossing them down in the living room, with an acknowledging nod to JOSEF.

ROO: Don’t mind all that. Bit of silly fun. How ya?