"Wot d'ye call wot he's got on 'um, anyway?" The speaker was a male, naturally.
"W'y, you big stoopid, can't you see he's wearin' rompers?" The answer came in a giggle, from a gay youthful creature of the opposite sex as she kicked out roguishly.
"Well, then be chee, w'y don't he romp a little?"
"Give 'um time, cancher? Don't you see he's blowin' out his flues? He's busy now. He'll romp in a minute."
"Sure he will! We'll romp with 'um."
A waggish young person in white beaded slippers and a green sport skirt broke free from the cavorting ring, and behind Mr. Leary's back the nimble fingers of the madcap tapped his spinal ornamentations as an instrumentalist taps the stops of an organ; and she chanted a familiar counting game of childhood:
"Rich man—poor man—beggar man—thief—doctor—loiryer——"
"Sure, he said he was a loiryer." It was Mr. Cassidy breaking in. "And he said his name was Algernon. Well, I believe the Algernon part—the big A. P. A."
"Oh, you Algy!"