Their movements were extremely swift and abrupt, and their conversation during the heated discussion about the division of the dental assortment was pure gibberish. They spoke in monosyllables and short, broken sentences, more like gibberish than language. Yet, they still bore some traces of grammatical structure and showed traces of a higher culture. Even the grandfather's speech was so defective that it would sound like nonsense to the reader, if it were transcribed exactly as he said it. But that was only his language when speaking to the boys.
When he reached the peak of his self-chatter, his language slowly refined into pure English. The sentences grew longer, and their pronunciation was rhythmic and fluid, reminiscent of a lecture hall.
When the teeth were finally settled, Hair-lip spoke up, asking, "Tell us about the Red Plague, Grandpa."
"The Scarlet Plague," Edwin corrected.
"And don't talk to us in that strange accent," Hair-lip continued. "Talk to us clearly, Grandpa, like the Santa Rosans do. They don't talk like you do."