Mr. Brisket (triumphantly). “Then I want six-and-sixpence from you, sir, or else I’ll summons yer! Your dog there ran away with a piece of mutton o’ that valley from these premises last night!”
Mr. Chattles. “Hum—ah—h’m! Then if you’ll hand me over twopence, we shall just be square, Mr. Brisket—as my fee for consultation is six-and-eightpence!!”
“SAUCE FOR THE COUNSEL GOOSE IS SAUCE FOR SOLOR GANDER”
(Respectfully dedicated to the Incorporated Law Society and the Bar Committee)
Scene—Interior of the Duke of Ditchwater’s Study. Time—The near Future. Present—His Grace and Mr. Kosts, the Family Solicitor.
The Duke (finishing a long business talk). And I suppose we had better be represented by Mr. Silvertongue, the Queen’s Counsel?
Mr. Kosts (hesitating). Certainly, your Grace, if it is your express wish.
The Duke (surprised). Why, Mr. Kosts, you surely know of no better representative?