J. P.—“You come from Teeperary—a long, long way, peut-être?”
T. A.—“Me? Never was there in the whole course of my natural, cher ami, see voo play, mong cher frère. What price my parley-vooing, eh?”
J. P.—“Charmant—charmant! Vous parlerez bientôt—”
T. A.—“Cut it, old dear; I like you—you’re hot stuff; but your queer langwidge is a bit too thick. Have a fag? No offense.”
J. P.—“Merci bien, m’sieu. Mais dites-moi—tiens! Tell me, eef you please, where is zis Teeperary, and why you sing always of it such a ’long, long way?’ Ees it that you all come from there?”
T. A.-“Well, I never met anybody yet who’d been there, but I’ll tell you one thing—promise you won’t let on?”
J. P.—“‘Let on?’ Pardon—I do not—”
T. A.—“You won’t tell anyone?”
J. P.—“Ah, non, non—pas un mot!”
T. A.—(Whispers hoarsely) “It’s in Ireland.”