He had put some flowers that he had brought for her earlier in the evening in the middle of it, stuck into an empty milk bottle.

In her excitement and joy about the play, she had forgotten to put them in water.

They were distinctly sad.
"Me word!" she said to herself, through the aftermath of her emotion.
"That's some boy.

Gee, that's some good boy." Even her thoughts were conducted in a mixture of Brixton and Broadway.
"Now, then," he said, "all ready, marm," and put his handiwork in what he hoped was an appetizing manner on the table.

The hot eggs were on a cold plate, but did that really matter?
Not to Tootles, who was glad to get anything, anyhow.