HILLCRIST. And tell cook I've got to go on slops. This foot's
worse.

FELLOWS. [Sympathetic] Indeed, sir.

HILLCRIST. My third go this year, Fellows.

FELLOWS. Very annoying, sir.

HILLCRIST. Ye-es. Ever had it?

FELLOWS. I fancy I have had a twinge, sir.

HILLCRIST. [Brightening] Have you? Where?

FELLOWS. In my cork wrist, sir.

HILLCRIST. Your what?

FELLOWS. The wrist I draw corks with.

HILLCRIST. [With a cackle] You'd have had more than a twinge if
you'd lived with my father. H'm!

FELLOWS. Excuse me, sir--Vichy water corks, in my experience, are
worse than any wine.

HILLCRIST. [Ironically] Ah! The country's not what it was, is it,
Fellows?