"I've been reading P.G. Wodehouse," said Chippy as he plopped into the chair opposite Lord Liverwurst.
"You don't say," he replied without lifting his eyes from his hog futures. Every good man faces his share of unsolicited commentary and Lord Liverwurst would weather it with the fortitude of Noah among the landlubbers.
"It has inspired me as nothing before," Chippy continued. "Fortunately, my sharp wits are well suited for spinning a lively story. I've resolved to publish something myself."
"Fortunate indeed."
"Just this morning I delivered to consignment the old dresser, the sofa, and the dining room table. A man needs liquidity to finance this sort of venture."
"How does your mother feel about it?"
"Oh, she'll be thrilled. I'll explain it all when she returns next week. When the royalties start pouring she'll be eating with new silver!" Chippy clapped.
"That should compensate for having to dine on the floor," Lord Liverwurst agreed.
"Exactly!"
"And if it doesn't pan out?"
"Nothing to worry about, I've got the knack for it."
"It will be sad if it doesn't come through."
"Well, of course."
"For you I mean," said Lord Liverwurst.
"My mother would be broken up," nodded Clippy.
"If you think so."
"She'd be in tears for me."
"Yes, she'll be in tears."
"Ah, there's nothing to fear. I think I'll tuck in to a sandwhich before I go bang it out this afternoon," said Chippy thumbing through his wallet.
"Help yourself," Lord Liverwurst encouraged him.