"One was called `How' and the other `Now,' weren't they, Fisher minor ?" Whereupon there was mirth at the expense of Fisher minor.
Silence having been procured, D'Arcy began to write.
"`Cobbrer de Capillars is my favrite--' What is it?
Bird, beast, or fish, Wally ?" "Shut up; bird, of course." "`Bird,'" continued the essayist.

"`It was in Nore's arck and is good eating'-- that's all I know about it.

Tell us something more, Wally, there's a good chap." "Oh, bother.

Don't go disturbing, it spoils everything." "`The cobberer oart not to be disterbd for it spoyls everything--it spoyls your close and--' wire in, Wally, what else does it do?
You might tell a chap." "What I'll do to you, you cad, and that's pull your nose if you don't shut up!" retorted Wally, who was busy over his own theme.
"`--and puis yore knows if yore a cad, and don't shut up.' There, bother it, that ought to do--twelve lines.

Good enough for him." "Stuck in the stops ?" asked Ashby.
"No; by the way--glad you reminded me--I suppose about every four words, eh ?" "Something about that," said Ashby.
So D'Arcy sprinkled a few stops judiciously through his copy, and having done so began to upbraid his partners for their slowness.
Some time was lost in suppressing him, but he was eventually disposed of under the bath, which was turned upside down to accommodate him and sat upon by the other three, who were thus able to continue their work in peace.
Ashby was done first.