It's all very well for fellows like you three, who have rich people, and can write home any time for a fiver; but I'm not so flush of cash .-- Look here, Gull, have you got that banjo?
Sing us a song." "All right," answered Gull, reaching down and picking a small five-stringed instrument off the floor; "what'll you have ?" "Oh, something with a good swing to it.

I feel like kicking up a row." Gull tuned up, struck a few chords, and then launched out into a rattling nigger song with an amount of "go" and clatter sufficient to inspire the hearer with an almost irresistible desire to get up and dance.

The three listeners shouted the chorus at the top of their voices, pounding the table with their fists by way of a sort of drum accompaniment.

Gull was just preparing to commence the fourth verse when there was a knock at the study door.
"Wait a jiff," said Thurston.--"Who's there?
What d'you want ?" "Why," came the answer, uttered in rather a drawling tone, "I wish you fellows wouldn't make so much row.

I can't possibly work.