Mr. Stip. (after wiping Fluff's chin and arranging his legs). If we can only keep him like that for one second.
The E. L. But he ought to have his ears pricked. (Mr. Stippler makes weird noises behind the camera, resembling demon cats in torture; Fluff regards him with calm contempt.) Oh, and his hair is all in his eyes, and they're his best feature!
[Mr. Stippler attempts to part Fluff's fringe; snarls.
Mr. Stip. I have not discovered his eyes at present, Madam; but he appears to have excellent—ah—teeth.
The E. L. Hasn't he! Now, couldn't you catch him like that?
Mr. Stip. (to himself). He's more likely to catch me like that! (Aloud; as he retreats under a hanging canopy.) I think we shall get a good one of him as he is. (Focussing.) Yes, that will do very nicely. (He puts in the plate, and prepares to release the shutter, whereupon Fluff deliberately rises and presents his tail to the camera.) I presume you do not desiah a back view of the dog, Madam!
"What's she got hold of now."