Two passing Wits

Two: Ho there! Bobby Watson, i'nit?

Three: What? Bobby what, Son?

Two: Not what son. Watson. Which Watson are you?

Three: Witch son?

Two: No. Which Watson not witch son

Three: Oh.

Two: So?

Three: Sew?

Two: Yes. So which Watson?

Three: Sew a witch what son?

Two: What?

Three: Right. What should I sew the witch, son. I must say. I am surprised that you can tell that I'm a tailor.

Two: A Taylor?

Three: No a tailor.

Two: Oh a tal-er.

Three: No a tailor!

Two: A tail-er?

Three: Oh now that's a good one

Two: (pleased) You think so?

Three: Rather!

Two: Think Cat would like it?

Three: He might. Mistress wouldn't that's for sure

Two: You're right there, but she doesn't like much does she? It's hard to tell with Cat though.

Three: Say where is Cat?

Two: Dunno, haven't seen him in ages.

Three: Well that's not good….

Two: Well it's not bad….

Three: And if it's not bad….

Two and Three: It's a bit of alright!!

Laughing giddily Two and Three first cha-cha-ed then fandango-ed their way along the corridor and then, with a whirl and a toss that would make any top to toe double wide shouldered jitterbug daddio turn green with envy and fear, they disappeared; plummeting into the depths of the Keep's dumbwaiter.