S. P. Means a bad time for us—blazin' into the brown, and all that. Give me the right kind of sport, I say, and a fly for my money. With these 'prentice hands you never know where you are, don't you know? Bound to fly into the pips some day or other.
F. P. And probably no dogs to give you a wrinkle how things lie. Keepers won't bring 'em out at any price. Say it's chancy enough for themselves and the beaters, without riskin' a decent-bred setter. Lost three and a half brace of clippin' Gordons with two New Women guns last season over the other side of the county.
S. P. Goin' in for co-operation this year? What do you think of the covey system?
F. P. Played out, dear bird. Social fads a bit off colour, don't you know, in these Tory days. Individualism, I say, and let every fowl sit tight for himself, especially with this wild shootin' goin' on. Family ties a little loose, too, this end of the century. Look at the Divorce Courts.
S. P. No chance of Protection, I suppose?
F. P. Afraid not. You see they're keepin' Jimmy Lowther quiet with a heavy job on Committees. By the way, I see Brodrick's gettin' in a lot more ammunition for small-arms. Glad it's smokeless powder. Old stuff used to knock the landscape about badly. Then, again, apart from the view, must say I like to see where I'm flyin'.
S. P. Pity Chaplin didn't get laid on to our department. Hear he had a notion for a bi-metallic gun; dead safe to settle agricultural depression.
F. P. Well, anyhow, Rosebery did us the compliment to make our last man a Lord; though perhaps it was a covert insult, seein' he was boomin' against the Upper Chamber. Take it all round, I'm for a Tory Government. One of their openin' moves, you see, is to put the First on a Sunday. That's a bit sportsmanlike.
S. P. Yes, but they're a mixed lot—this coalition. Tell me that J. C. don't know a muzzle from a butt-end! However, here's luck and rude health to all good sportsmen. Vive le Sport! I'm off with the missus for a mornin' fly. Ta-ta!
[Exeunt.