Brimberly, comfortably ensconced in Young R.'s favourite armchair,
nodded ponderously and beat time to the twang of Mr. Jenkins's banjo,
whereto Mr. Stevens sang in a high-pitched and rather shaky tenor the
latest musical success yclept "Sammy." Thus, Mr. Jenkins strummed, Mr.
Stevens trilled, and Mr. Brimberly alternately beat the tempo with a
plump white finger and sipped his master's champagne until, having
emptied his glass, he turned to the bottle on the table beside him,
found that empty also, crossed to the two bottles on the mantel, found
them likewise void and had tried the two upon the piano with no better
success, when, the song being ended, Mr. Jenkins struck in with:
"All dead men, Brim! Six of 'em between us--not bad going, what?"
"And very good fizz too, on the whole!" added Mr. Stevens. "I always
sing better on champagne. But come, Brim my boy, I've obliged with
everything I know, and Jenk, 'e 's played everything 'e knows, and
I must say with great delicacy an' feelin'--now it's your
turn--somethin'.
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