THE GUSHING LADY. Oh, they're simply too _sweet_! How those horses are
enjoying it--aren't they pets? and how perfectly they keep step to the
music, don't they?
HER FRIEND. (_who is beginning to get a trifle tired by her
enthusiasm_). Yes; but then they're all trained by Madame Katti Lanner,
of Drury Lane, you see.
THE GUSHING LADY. What pains she must have taken with them; but you can
teach a horse _anything_, can't you?
HER FRIEND. Oh, that's nothing; next year they're going to have a horse
who'll dance the Highland Fling.
THE SOCIALIST. A pretty sight? Cost a pretty sight o' the People's
money, I know that. Tomfoolery, that's what it is; a set of dressed-up
bullies dancin' quadrilles on 'orseback; _that_ ain't military
manoeuvrin'. It's sickenin' the way fools applaud such goin's on. And
cuttin' off the Saracen's 'ed, too; I'd call it plucky if the Saracen 'ad
a gun in his 'and. Bah, I 'ate the 'ole business!
HIS NEIGHBOUR. Got anybody along with you, Mate?
THE SOCIALIST. No, I don't want anybody along with _me_, I don't.
HIS NEIGHBOUR. That's a pity, that is. A sweet-tempered, pleasant-spoken
party like you are oughtn't to go about by yourself. You ought to bring
somebody just to enjoy your conversation. There don't seem to be anybody
_'ere_ of your way of thinkin'.