SCENE--_In Town._ JONES _meets_ BROWN.
[Illustration]
_Jones._ Going to Epsom?
_Brown._ No, I think not. Fact is, the place gets duller year by year.
The train has knocked the fun out of the road.
_Jones._ Such a waste of time. Why go in a crowd to see some horses
race, when you can read all about it in the evening papers?
_Brown._ Just so. No fun. No excitement. And the Downs are wretched if
it rains or snows.
_Jones._ Certainly. The luncheon, too, is all very well; but, after all,
it spoils one's dinner.
_Brown._ Distinctly. And champagne at two o'clock is premature.
_Jones._ And lobster-salad undoubtedly indigestible. So it's much
better not to go to the Derby--in spite of the luncheon.
_Brown._ Yes,--in spite of the luncheon.
[Illustration]
(_Two hours pass. Scene changes to Epsom._)
_Jones._ Hullo! You here?
_Brown._ Hullo! And if it comes to that, you here, too?
_Jones._ Well, I really found so little doing in town that I thought I
might be here as well as anywhere else.
_Brown._ Just my case. Not that there's much to see or do. Silly as
usual.
_Jones._ Quite. Always said the Derby was a fraud. But I am afraid, my
dear fellow, I must hurry away, as I have got to get back to my party
for luncheon.
_Brown._ So have I.
[Exeunt severally.
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