human
Well, you beat me. I’ve got seven and fivepence halfpenny, and no chance of more for nearly a couple of months. We’re sturdy beggars: under a pound between us.
gpt
You can’t do much with a pound.
human
True, old sport, and still less with nineteen and twopence halfpenny. Might as well not count the halfpenny.
gpt
And there was so much I wanted to do. There’s the levitator, and the smoke machine, and the perpetual pump——
human
And the microphone, and the lachrymator, and the super-stink——
gpt
And the electric cropper, and the tar entanglement, and—but what’s the good of talking? They all mean cash.
human
Well, haven’t I read, in the days of my youth, in the excellent Samuel Smiles, that most inventors have been poor men?
gpt
That’s all very well; but they started with more than nineteen and twopence half-penny—and war prices, too! It’s maddening to think what chances we are missing. This is just the sort of place where you can think out things quietly. No masters to pounce on your inventions before they are half finished. That automatic hair-cutter, now; there was a ripping idea simply squashed flat. A few touches would have made it perfect. If that blatant ass, young Barker, hadn’t shouted before he was hurt——
human
Barked before he was bitten.
gpt
Eh? Oh, that’s a pun. I wish you’d be serious. If he hadn’t shouted and brought old Sandy on the scene the thing might have been finished by now, and on the market.
human
And what would the Hun say when he came back after the war and found your patent cutter in every one’s pocket? His job would be gone. Really, I’ve a sneaking sympathy with the gentle Hun.
gpt
I haven’t—not a ha’porth. Anyway, now we’ve got to begin all over again, simply because young Barker hadn’t the pluck of a—of a——
human
Of a cucumber?
gpt
Yes—of a cucumber,
human
By gum, he did look a sight! added Eves, grinning in gleeful reminiscence.
gpt
Half his crumpet bald as a billiard ball; t’other half moth-eaten.
human
Serve him right. If he’d waited until we’d readjusted the clippers, and shut his face instead of raising Cain and bringing old Sandy rushing in at a mile a minute, I’d have made a thorough good job of him. He was a beautiful subject, too; hadn’t seen a barber for six weeks.
gpt
And enough grease on his mane to make the thing self-lubricating. There’s an idea for you, old man.
human
Yes; I hadn’t thought of that. But what’s the good? Here we’re in a quiet village, with the run of old Trenchard’s disused barn; all the conditions favourable, but no funds! Upon my word——
gpt
Hullo, Postie, cried Eves at this point.
human
Anything for us?