“Down goes the piston,” continued Teddy.
“Down go her pistol,” nodded De Petoburgh.
“And the dashed thing begins working automatically,” exclaimed Bobby Bolsover. De Petoburgh balked at the six-syllabled hedge. “Now, an airship is an example of——”
“The effectiveness of an aërial propeller driven by a petrol motor,” put in Teddy.
“Jusso,” said De Petoburgh. “Jusso.”
“There is, practically speaking, no danger whatever,” pursued Bobby Bolsover, warming to the subject, “that does not attend other popular pursuits. You may be thrown from a horse, or tumble off a coach-box——”
“Did once,” said De Petoburgh, smiling in sad retrospection.
“Or you may blow up in a motor,” went on Bobby.
“But in either case,” said Mrs. Gudrun, with point, “one is on the ground, not hanging between heaven and earth, like What’s-his-name’s coffin.”
“Brarro!” exclaimed De Petoburgh. “Encore! Bis!”