NORTH.
Trim—trim—trim—
TALBOYS.
Gentlemen, are you all seated?
NORTH.
Why into such strange vagaries fall as you would dance, Longfellow! Seize his skirts, Seward. Buller, cling to his knees. Billy, the boat-hook—he will be—he is—overboard.
TALBOYS.
Not at all. Gutta Percha is somewhat crank—and I am steadying her, sir.
NORTH.
What is that round your waist?