Norman Price: Cor! Wet cement! Hi-ya, Mr. Evans!
Trevor Evans: Norman Price, you stay where you are. I don't trust you near my nice, level concrete.
Norman Price: [nears the wet cement] I only want to write my name in it, that's...
Trevor Evans: Aw, no! None of your tricks, Norman!
Norman Price: Course not!
[holds out a brown paper bag]
Norman Price: Would you like one of my boiled sweets?
Trevor Evans: Oh! Well, I don't mind if I do.
[steps forward]
Trevor Evans: Thank you, Nor--
[looks down and sees that he's standing in the wet cement; Norman is gone]
Trevor Evans: Aww, Norman Price! You wait till I tell your mother!
Norman Price: Ha-ha!