|
Walter : I mean, look at Job and all that befell him.
He asks the Lord; "Why are you doing all of this to
me?" And God could have explained, but instead he
just said; "Trust me, Job." Now that's mysterious.
God? Yes, Walter? How do you think it's sounding?
Well, the title stinks,
for a start.
Grace : Hi, I'm sorry. I can't agree with God about
that.
Walter : Goodness, Grace.
Grace : Hope you don't mind.
Walter : No, no, no, I was, I was just practising for
the convention.
Grace : It's very thought provoking.
Walter : Dry and boring, I think, you mean. But that's
me all over.
Grace : Nonsense.
Walter : I'm not the most
vibrant of individuals.
Grace : A bit serious, perhaps.
Walter : You've
hit the
nail on the head there. Grace.
Mrs. Parker : Reverend Goodfellow! Reverend Goodfellow!
I just wanted to speak to you about... Mrs Hawkins.
Grace : Mrs Parker.
Mrs. Parker : Is it possible to have a word with you,
privately? It's about the flower arranging
committee. It has taken
a turn for the worse. I have never
in all my life, I have never, never...
Grace : Mrs Parker, the Reverend is practising his
sermon.
Walter : Ah, yes, I, I have a convention coming up.
Mrs. Parker : I see. Very well.
Walter : Goodbye, Mrs Parker. |
