"Very true sir," smiled the doctor, "only you don't either of you happen to wear petticoats——"
"Petticoats!" exclaimed the Colonel, rolling his eyes.
"Petticoats are my prescription, my lord—plenty of 'em and taken often. A house is a gloomy place without 'em——'
"Agad and ya' right there—ya' right there!" nodded the Colonel vehemently.
"No!" protested the Major.
"Yes!" cried the Colonel. "Look at my place in Surrey, the damndest, dreariest curst hole y'ever saw——"
"Nay George, when I saw it last it was——"
"A plaguy, dreary hole, Jack!" snapped the Colonel. "Used to wonder why I couldn't abide the place—reason perfectly plain to-day—lacks a petticoat, and Jack man, a petticoat I'm a-going to have soon, man, soon ha, and so shall you begad!"
"Never!" said the Major drearily.
"Now hark to the poor, curst wretch, 'tis the woefullest dog!" exclaimed the Colonel feelingly, "won't drink and no petticoats! Man Jack, I tell thee woman is to man his—his—well, she's a woman, and man without woman's gentle and purifying influence is—is only—only a—well, man. Look at me. After all these years, Jack 'tis a petticoat for me."