Small Boy. I sor that time, Father. He was a-aiming at one o' them ducks, an' he missed a rabbit! [The N.S. gives it up in disgust.
Enter a small party of 'Arries in high spirits.
First 'Arry. 'Ullo! I'm on to this. 'Ere, Guv'nor, 'and us a gun. I'll show yer 'ow to shoot!
[He takes up his position, in happy unconsciousness that playful companions have decorated his coat-collar behind with a long piece of white paper.
Second 'Arry. Go in, JIM! You got yer markin'-paper ready, anyhow.
[Delighted guffaws from the other 'Arries, in which JIM joins vaguely.
Third 'Arry. I'll lay you can't knock a rabbit down!
Jim. I'll lay I can!
[Fires. The procession of rabbits goes on undisturbed.
Second 'Arry (jocosely). Never mind. You peppered 'im. I sor the feathers floy!