Clifford.—Why, Mr. Macpherson,—aw—aw—ha! if I have any of my logic left in me at all, I think I can prove that de facto you have no story to tell. As thus:—
You tell nothing but facks.
In your story there is no fack.
Therefore you have nothing to tell.
Quod erat demonstrandum. Ergo, as a corollary, I think we had better—aw—aw—a—go to bed.
Grant.—Very ingeniously made out, Clifford. But we know from experience, that logic and common sense are not always equal to the same thing, and therefore they are not always equal to one another. So, to cut the argument short, I now move that Mr. Macpherson do forthwith begin his story.
Author.—I second the motion.
Clifford.—Well, I shall—aw, aw—light another cigar, and if he does not finish in the smoking of it, I for one shall bowl off to bed.
Grant.—Come then, Mr. Macpherson, pray take the start of him.