_The Com. M._ It seems to me there's a bluebottle, or something, got
inside mine--I can 'ear _im_!

_The Irr. P._ (_angrily, to himself_). How the deuce do they
expect--and that infernal organ in the nave has just started booming
again--they ought to send out and stop it!

_The Chatty O.G._ (_touching his elbow_). I beg your pardon, Sir, but
can you inform me what opera it is they're performing at Manchester?
The _Prima Donna_ seems to be just finishing a song. Wonderful how one
can hear it all!

_The Irr. P._ (_snapping_). Very wonderful indeed, under the
circumstances! (_He corks both ears with the tubes_). It's too
bad--now there's a confounded string-band beginning outs--(_Removes
the tube._) Eh, what? (_More angrily than ever._) Why, it's _in_ the
blanked thing! (_He fumbles with the tubes in trying to readjust them.
At last he succeeds, and, after listening intently, is rewarded by
hearing a muffled and ghostly voice, apparently from the bowels of the
earth, say_--"Ha, say you so? Then am I indeed the hooshiest hearsher
in the whole of Mumble-land!")

_The Chatty O.G._ (_nudging him_). How very distinctly you hear the
dialogue, Sir, don't you?

[_The Irritable Person, without removing the tubes, turns
and glares at him savagely, without producing the slightest
impression._