is like this. A man named Parker had a flying-machine that would carry
two. He was a venturesome sort of chap--reckless, I should call him--and
he had some bother in finding a man willing to risk his life in making
an ascent with him. However, an uncle of mine thought he would chance
it, and one fine morning he took his seat in the machine and she started
off well. When they were up about a thousand feet, my nephew
suddenly--"

"Here, stop, Wilson! What was your nephew doing there? You said your
uncle," interrupted Mr. Stubbs.

"Did I? Well, it does not matter. My nephew suddenly turned to Parker
and said that the engine wasn't running well, so Parker called out to my
uncle--"

"Look here," broke in Mr. Waterson, "we are getting mixed. Was it your
uncle or your nephew? Let's have it one way or the other."

"What I said is quite right. Parker called out to my uncle to do
something or other, when my nephew--"

"There you are again, Wilson," cried Mr. Stubbs; "once for all, are we
to understand that both your uncle and your nephew were on the machine?"

"Certainly. I thought I made that clear. Where was I? Well, my nephew
shouted back to Parker--"

"Phew! I'm sorry to interrupt you again, Wilson, but we can't get on
like this. Is it true that the machine would only carry two?"