Mr. Punch condoled with the son of Neptune, and asked what were the chief amusements in the planet.
"Well, badgering the Engineers is considered excellent sport—especially just now when their services are not absolutely required. We snub them and underpay them, we refuse them the rank due to them, and lead them a generally happy life! Nothing of that sort of thing down below, I suppose?"
Mr. Punch at the moment this question was put was probably thinking of something else—at any rate he gave no answer.
"But this is about the best thing we have here," continued the Resident, pointing to a scene recalling the traditional pictures of Greenwich Fair, "the Royal Naval Exhibition. You see we have pictures and models and fireworks. Everything connected with the Navy inclusive of ladies' foot-ball."
"Ladies' foot-ball," echoed Mr. Punch, "why what has that to do with matters nautical?"
"Pardon me, Mr. Punch," returned the Resident in a tone of impatience, "but to-day you are certainly dense. Ladies' foot-ball is entirely nautical. Are not the ladies, as they play it, quite at sea?"
The Sage of Fleet Street bowed, and admitted that second thoughts were best.
"And now you must really excuse me," continued the Resident, "for it is my duty, as a director of the Royal Naval Exhibition to start the donkey races. I suppose you have had nothing like our Exhibition down below?"
"Nothing," returned the Sage.