“I shall have rabbits,” said Fisher minor.
“Good old rabbits! Did you ever keep any? What were their names?” said Wally.
“Don’t you know?” said Ashby, solemnly. “One was called ‘How’ and the other ‘Now,’ weren’t they, Fisher minor?”
Whereupon there was mirth at the expense of Fisher minor.
Silence having been procured, D’Arcy began to write.
“‘Cobbrer de Capillars is my favrite—’ What is it? Bird, beast, or fish, Wally?”
“Shut up; bird, of course.”
“‘Bird,’” continued the essayist. “‘It was in Nore’s arck and is good eating’—that’s all I know about it. Tell us something more, Wally, there’s a good chap.”
“Oh, bother. Don’t go disturbing, it spoils everything.”
“‘The cobberer oart not to be disterbd for it spoyls everything—it spoyls your close and—’ wire in, Wally, what else does it do? You might tell a chap.”