 Tonight, we find Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart, the typical American couple, taking a trip to Europe. That is, Mrs. Lockhart is taking Mr. Lockhart. They are now at sea. As you probably know, Mr. Lockhart is the average American businessman, blunt, comfortable, knows his own mind, enjoys his business, and would much rather have gone fishing. Mrs. Lockhart is the pleasant type of American wife. A thorough housekeeper, belongs to the women's club in the literary society of her town, and still retains the spirit of romance. We pick them up as they sit in their deck chairs, on board a transatlantic liner bound for England. Isn't this perfectly glorious, dear? Beautiful sunshine, not a ripple on the water. Aren't you glad you decided to take this trip? Yes, it's comfortable and restful, but we're not off the boat yet. Oh, now dear, don't look for trouble. I haven't met anybody on board yet to talk to. Well, you will later on. They say people always become friendly after a day or so at sea. I've already met one very nice English woman. Where did you meet her? In the ladies' lounge last night while you were in the smoker. She's a lecturer or something. Look, look, that's her now, coming along the deck. I'll call her. No, no, no, no, don't, dear. Why not? Well, we've always heard these English people are so reserved. Nonsense. She's very nice and she's very chatty, and I just adore her accent. Here she comes. Good morning. No, no, wait, dear. Oh, good morning. So glad to see you about coming with us. This is my husband, Mr. Lockhart. Pleased to meet you. What did you say your name was? I'm sorry. I didn't get your name last evening. No, she didn't get your name. You mean we weren't introduced. How embarrassing. But then, of course, on board ship, you know, one doesn't mind, does one. My name is Beecham. Beecham? Now I thought that was it, and I looked all down the passenger list today, and I couldn't find it. No, she couldn't find it. Oh, is that all right under the B? Beecham. Well, how do you spell it? Uh, why? B-E-A-U-C-H-A-M-P. Beecham. Good Lord. Well? My wife was saying you're in the lecturing business. Yes, if that's what you call it. I can hardly call it a business, though. No, maybe that isn't quite the name for it. We call it a racket. Will. What, dear? Racket? I never heard that word before. How do you spell it? Y-R-A-C-Q-U-E-T. Will. Uh, well, what do you speak on, Miss, uh... Uh, Beecham. Miss Beecham? My subject is hen across the sea. Such a flingy title, don't you think? And after all, you know we are cousins. Uh, yes, uh, after all... We speak the same language nearly. I'm glad you said nearly. Well, you're terrible. No, I'm not. I was just reading this morning in that guidebook that in England, if I want to buy a pair of garters, I gotta ask for suspenders. And if I want a pair of suspenders, I gotta ask for braces. Isn't that right, Miss Beecham? Oh, great. And an elevator is a lift, and gasoline is petrol, and the movies are called cinemas. Isn't that right, Miss... Oh, great. Yes, uh, well, that's as far as I've got in learning English, but outside of that, I guess we speak the same language. Of course, those are just details. Details? Ma'am, if I need a pair of suspenders and I get garters instead, that's no detail. That's a matter of major importance to me. I take it this is your first trip to England. It is. Oh, yes, Miss Beecham, we've never been across before. No, and if I know it, we'll never come across again. Oh, but you don't know what's in store for you. You said it, but I'm preparing myself for the worst. Of course, you visited London and the Thames. Oh, the Bureau Thames. I suppose we will. Mrs. Lockhart, you simply must persuade your husband to take his panting on the Thames. Watch that. Oh, yes, yes, of course, Miss Beecham. And just what is this panting on the Thames? Panting, P-U-N-T-I-N-G, panting. Oh, it's so delightful. I can think of nothing more enjoyable. I wonder if I can explain it to you. Oh, I wish old Charlie could hear this. We'll, we'll. Well, now I'm sure it must be delightful, Miss Beecham. We'll have to try it. Yes, we, maybe we will. Oh, you must, my dear, it's quite thrilling. And now I must leave you. Oh, well, must you go? Oh, yes, I must go. I've only done three miles so far this morning, and I always do five miles before luncheon. It's eight miles around the boat, you know. I'll see you at the tea time, I hope. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Well, panting on the Thames. Wouldn't you like to try it, Will? My dear, before I lose my breath and start panting on the Thames, Yes, dear? I've got to lose my mind and start picking on the coverlets. Oh, this cabin is so stuffy. Well, the, the storm is nearly over now. Oh, I'm feeling so miserable. So am I, dear. I wonder if we should have stayed at home. I know we should. Oh, dear, what was that? Well, I, I think that that was half the Atlantic Ocean. Oh, dear, oh, dear. And, and that's the other half. Oh, if this boat would only stop rolling just a minute. What, what was that? I think it's someone knocking at the door. Well, I'm not going to get down out of this upper berth for anybody. You better answer it. You better answer it, dear. Ah, hello. There, there's nobody home. May I come in, sir? Yes, sir. Come in. Good morning, sir. It's a lovely morning, sir. It is not a lovely morning. Aren't you feeling well, sir? We are not. I'm sorry, sir. Everyone else is up on deck having a lovely time. The sun's shining. It's a beautiful day, sir. Are we the only ones ill? Yes, madam. Everyone else is up enjoying themselves. Isn't there a storm? Oh, no, ma'am. It's just a bit of a blow. That's all. Well, now that, that makes me feel a little better. Oh, you'll be all right, sir, when you get up. The, and the captain's compliment, sir. And would you be so kind as to be chairman of the ship's concert tomorrow evening? What, me, a chairman of the concert? Oh, well, isn't that nice? Chairman, if you don't mind obliging. Well, well, now I, what do you think, dear? Why, yes, dear. Of course. You know it made me feel better already. Well, all right, Stuart. Give my compliments to the captain and say I'll be glad to officiate. Thank you, sir. Are you feeling better now, sir? Yes, I believe I am. And you, madam? Oh, yes, yes. Very much better. Thank you. I thought you would be. Yeah, we would. How did you know? Well, sir, seasickness is mostly imagination, sir. And if you've got something to think about instead of yourselves, it soon passes away. Thank you, sir. I'll tell the captain. Well, now, what do you think of that? Chairman of the concert? No, what the Stuart said. Oh, about imagination? Yes. Well, all I can say, my dear, is that if what we've been through in the past eight hours is imagination, I never want to be really seasick. Well, we've all enjoyed Mr. Wimmer's rendition of that last number. And now, before announcing the last item on the evening's program, I've been requested to extend to you the captain's regrets who has been detained on the bridge on account of the fog. Now, we've all enjoyed a pleasant voyage on this bird of passage, as the poet puts it, I forget which one. And I understand that we landed Southampton early in the morning. So I'd ask you all to join in a round of applause for the captain and crew who brought us safely across the trackless ocean as someone has called it. The closing number is a solo, a soprano vocal solo by one of our charming fellow passengers, Mrs. W. B. Munch. The solo is entitled, The World is Waiting for the Sunrise. The section for the Siemens Fund amounts to $121.69. And dancing will now begin on the promenade day. We must be up early in the morning tonight as the chairman. And so we leave the Lockhearts until next week at the same time when we shall join them again as they arrive in England.