human
Hullo! here you are, was Doubleday's greeting.
gpt
Which is which of you to-night, eh?
human
I'm Adam,
gpt
All serene, Adam. Stick this piece of paper in your button-hole, and then we'll know you from Abel. By the way, Whipcord, I suppose you never heard my last joke, did you?
human
Never heard your first yet,
gpt
Oh, yes you did, retorted Doubleday, who as usual always preferred the laugh when it was on his own side.
human
Don't you remember me telling Crow last time you came that you were a fellow who knew a thing or two? That was a joke, eh, twins?
gpt
Rather,
human
But my last wasn't about Whipcord at all: it was about you two. I got muddled up among you somehow and said, `For the life of me I am not able to tell one of you from Adam!'
gpt
Well?
human
Well, what! said Doubleday, savagely
gpt
The joke?
human
Why, that _was_ the joke, you blockhead! But we can't expect a poor fellow like you to see it. I say, the Field-Marshal's behind time. I'll give him two minutes, and then we'll start without him.