"Got the gout. Oh! that's another thing. I thought you'd have it. You drink too much port after dinner."
"I say, Joe," cried Mr. Loyd, "are you doing this on purpose? You don't understand a word I say; in fact, you misconstrue everything."
"If that is so I can't help it."
"You're getting worse."
"Don't do that," replied Joe gravely.
"Eh?"
"Don't curse me. If I am deaf, that is to say slightly deaf, it is my misfortune, not my fault; you ought to make allowance for me, and speak louder."
"Do you want me to be a foghorn, or a river steam tug?"
"Certainly not."
"Or a cavalry man's trumpet, or a bellowing bull?"