“It’s finished,” said Fleet.
“What! you don’t mean that you have the nerve to perpetrate a thing like that on us and call it a poem?”
“Surely.”
“Well, if that isn’t the worst I ever heard. Don’t you ever, ever start anything like that again.”
“What I want to know,” said Bert, “is the meaning of the word, ‘tarm’.”
“‘Tarm?’” repeated Fleet. “I used no such word.”
“‘Is better than two on the nose, oh, tarm,’ is the last line.”
“Oh, that’s so. Well you fellows know what ‘tarm’ means, don’t you?”
“No; we don’t. Tell us.”
“Why tarm means that if—er—well——”