The Chatty O.G. (touching his elbow). I beg your pardon, Sir, but can you inform me what opera it is they're performing at Manchester? The Prima Donna seems to be just finishing a song. Wonderful how one can hear it all!
The Irr. P. (snapping). Very wonderful indeed, under the circumstances! (He corks both ears with the tubes). It's too bad—now there's a confounded string-band beginning outs—(Removes the tube.) Eh, what? (More angrily than ever.) Why, it's in the blanked thing! (He fumbles with the tubes in trying to readjust them. At last he succeeds, and, after listening intently, is rewarded by hearing a muffled and ghostly voice, apparently from the bowels of the earth, say—"Ha, say you so? Then am I indeed the hooshiest hearsher in the whole of Mumble-land!")
The Chatty O.G. (nudging him). How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don't you?
[The Irritable Person, without removing the tubes, turns and glares at him savagely, without producing the slightest impression.
Another Ghostly Voice (very audibly). The devil you are!
A Careful Mother. MINNIE, put them down at once, do you hear? I can't have you listening to such language.
Minnie. Why, it's only at Manchester, Mother!
Ghostly Voices and Sounds (as they reach the Irritable Person). "You cursed scoundrel! So it was you who burstled the billiboom, was it? Stand back, there, I'll hork every gordle in his—!" (... Sounds of a scuffle ... A loud female scream, and firing ...) "What have you done?"
The Ch. O.G. Have you any sort of idea what he has done, Sir?
[To the Irritable Person.