“He says it is not, just to cheer me up,” said Tom Long, dolefully. “I say, Bob Roberts, if I die—”
“If you what?” cried Bob, in a tone of disgust.
“I say, if I die.”
“Oh, ah, of course. Now then, let’s have it. Do you want me to write a verse for your tombstone?”
“They’d pitch me overboard,” said Long, dolefully.
“Not they,” said Bob. “This promising young officer, who had taken it into his head that he had been wounded by a poisoned kris, was buried under a palm tree, to the great relief of all who knew him, for they found him the most conceited—”
“Bob Roberts!”
“Consequential—”
“I tell you what it is—”
“Cocky—”