I say, Cusack, where did you catch these prime herrings?
Best I've tasted since I came here.

Afraid your slate's a little damaged; awfully sorry, you ought to keep a toasting-fork--ha! ha!" and a chorus of laughter greeted the sally.

Cusack groaned and fumed.
"You pack of young cads," he howled through the key-hole.

"Come out of there, do you hear?
you thieves you.

I'll warm you, Parson, when I get hold of you." "Just what we're doing to the bloaters," cried Telson.