Capt. G. Oh, no. Don't let him flop, though, or he'll lick all the blacking off your boots.
Mrs. G. (Within.) Who's destroying my son's character?
Capt. M. And my Godson's. I'm ashamed of you, Gaddy. Punch your father in the eye, Jack! Don't you stand it! Hit him again!
Capt. G. (Sotto voce.) Put The Butcha down and come to the end of the veranda. I'd rather the Wife didn't hear—just now.
Capt. M. You look awf'ly serious. Anything wrong?
Capt. G. 'Depends on your view entirely. I say, Jack, you won't think more hardly of me than you can help, will you? Come further this way.—The fact of the matter is, that I've made up my mind—at least I'm thinking seriously of—cutting the Service.
Capt. M. Hwhatt?
Capt. G. Don't shout. I'm going to send in my papers.
Capt. M. You! Are you mad?
Capt. G. No—only married.