The Gentleman-in-Powder (struggling almost manfully, though legs highly agitated). "I—I'll give you in c-charge! I'll—"
Timbertoes (encouraging an imaginary crew). "Cheerily! Cheerily! heave yo ho!"
The Gentleman-in-Powder (losing ground rapidly. Condition of legs indescribable). "I never—see nothing—like this here! I'll—"
Timbertoes (all shoulders, whiskers and pig-tail). "With a heave and a ho, and up she rises O!"
The Gentleman-in-Powder (extricating his ruffled dignity from between wall and door). "Oh, very good,—I'll give you in charge for this, you—you feller! Look at me coat! I'll send for a constable. I'll—"
Timbertoes. "Belay, my lad! This here's Number Five, ain't it?"
The Gentleman-in-Powder (glancing down apprehensively at his quivering legs). "Yes,—and I'll—"
Timbertoes. "Cap'n Beverley's craft, ain't it?"
The Gentleman-in-Powder (re-adjusting his ruffled finery). "Mister Beverley occipies this here res-eye-dence!"
Timbertoes (nodding). "Mister Beverley,—oh, ah, for sure. Well, is 'e aboard?"