"Gentlemen!" roars Jipson, rushing forward, elevating his voice and fists.
"For heaven's sake! Jipson," cries the wife.
"Gentlemen, or bla'guards, as you are."
"Oh! oh! Jipson, will you hear me?" imploringly cries Mrs. Jipson.
"What—ah—are you at? Does he—ah——"
"Yes, what—ah—does old Jip say?"
"Who the deuce, old What's-your-name, do you call gentlemen?" chimes in a third.
"Bla'guards!" roars Jipson.
"Oh, veri well, veri well, old fellow, we—ah—are—ah—to blame for—ah—patronizing a snob," continues a swell.
"A what?" shouts Jipson.