MR. PUSHINGTON. Seemed to _drag_ a little, somehow! There was no
necessity for you to make all those long soliloquies, Whipster. A
Doctor's confidential servant wouldn't chatter so much!
MR. WHIPSTER. You were so confoundedly solemn over it, I had to put some
fun in _somewhere_!
MR. P. Well, you might have put it where some one could see it. Nobody
laughed.
PROFESSOR POLLEN. I don't know, Mr. Pushington, why, when I was
describing my symptoms--which I can vouch for as scientifically
correct--you persisted in kicking my legs under the table--it was
unprofessional, Sir, and extremely painful!
MR. PUSHINGTON. I was only trying to hint to you that as there were a
dozen other people to follow, it was time you cut the interview short,
Professor--that one syllable alone has taken nearly an hour.
MISS BUCKRAM. If I had known the kind of questions you were going to ask
me, Mr. Pushington, I should certainly not have exposed myself to them.
I say no more, but I must positively decline to appear with you again.
MR. PUSHINGTON. Oh, but really, you know, in Charades one gets carried
away at times. I assure you, I hadn't the remotest (_&c, &c._--_until_
Miss Buckram _is partly mollified_.) Now then--last syllable. Look here,
I'll be a regular impostor, don't you know, and all of you come on and
say what a _liar_ I am. We ought to make that screamingly funny!