Second R. I’ll bet you I’m right. Our tom cat had chickens!
First R. When?
Second R. Why, one night out in the yard! The fowl-house was left open, our tom cat rushed in and sneaked a couple of chickens—so didn’t he have chickens?
First R. Go on, you fathead. I could have told you that.
Second R. Well, why didn’t you? Here, I sha’n’t go in for sneaking statues again. I believe they are all pretty well alive. Didn’t you ever hear of Peg million and Gill o’ beer?—him as makes a figure, and it comes to life? Do you know, I think I was made for something better than hard work?
First R. You work? Why, you never robbed an honest man of a hard day’s work in your blooming natural! Look here, I’m going to chuck statues—I’m going in for di’mons!
Second R. Well, I’ll trump it.
First R. No; you don’t understand me. Suppose now I were to go into a di’mond merchant’s and asked him to show me some of his most valuable di’monds, what would be the first thing he would show me?
Second R. The door.
First R. No; you don’t understand me.