First Partridge. Hallo! Goin' strong on the wing?
Second Partridge. So, so, dear bird. What prospects for the openin'?
F. P. Nothin' cheerful. Agricultural depression and Death Duties and Pariah Councils and all that. Hear they're goin' to make allotments in our beanfield.
S. P. Yes, and the Anti-Shootin' League and the claptrap against the Lords. It's very depressin'. However, with a sportin' Government in, things will be lookin' up.
F. P. Takes time, my feathered one, takes time. Why, they're still sittin' with the season just comin' on. Hear it's doocid dull in town, too, with the pavin' up in the Mall and all that.
S. P. Where do you get the club talk from, old rooster?
F. P. Bird I know keepin' over in the roots. Pal of a poacher that's thick with one of these West End game-mongers. Get the latest from him. Hear Healy and Tanner and that lot are on the war-path, and heaven only knows when the House will be up.
S. P. Wouldn't have mattered much in the good old days before the guv'nor let the shootin' to the brewin' Member. Lords never did a stroke of work after the Twelfth; but these Commoners ain't born and bred among the turnips. Only take the shootin' for the sake of appearances.
F. P. Yes; and I hear that the brewin' fellow's given the first week's sport to three of these New Women.