Cranford2007

[Mrs Forrester and Miss Pole were soaking some lace in buttermilk to improve its colour but Mrs Forrester's cat has just swallowed the lace while drinking the milk. Mrs Jamieson follows the women as they race through the street with the cat in a basket]

Mrs. Jamieson:
[shouting from her sedan chair] Mrs Forrester! Whatever has occurred?

Mrs. Forrester:
[frantically] It's my lace, Mrs Jamieson! My best lace!

Miss Pole:
[even more frantically] Which was made by nuns, last century, and you cannot get its like for love nor money any more, even though they have emancipated the Catholics!

Mrs. Jamieson:
What's happened to it?

Mrs. Forrester:
It's in the basket. In p*ssy's insides.

Miss Pole:
We are on our way to purchase "a compound".