_Mrs. Townley-Ratton_ (_about to leave with her husband, encounters
her cousins, the Miss RURAL-RATTONS, who have just arrived_). Why,
SOPHY, MARY! _how_ are you? this is _too_ delightful! When _did_ you
come up? How long are you going to be in town? _When_ can you come and
see me?
_Miss Sophy Rattan_ (_answering the two last questions_). Till the end
of the week. What will be the best time to find you?
_Mrs. T.R._ (_warmly_). Oh, _any_ time! I'm almost _always_ in--except
the afternoons, of course. I'm going out to tea or something every day
this week!
_Miss Sophy R._ Well, how would some time in the morning--
_Mrs. T.R._ The morning? No, I'm afraid--I'm _afraid_ it _mustn't_ be
the morning _this_ week--so many things that one _has_ to see to!
_Mr. T.R._ (_lazily_). You'd better all come and dine quietly some
evening.
[_He yawns, to tone down any excess of hospitality in this
invitation._
_Mrs. T.R._ (_quickly_). No, that would be _too_ cruel, when I know
they'll want to go to a theatre every night! And besides, I really
haven't a single free evening this week. But I must see if we can't
_arrange_ something. You really must drop me a line _next_ time
you're coming up! Good-bye, dears, we mustn't keep you from the
pictures--such a fine collection this winter! Love to your Mother,
and say I shall try to call--if I _possibly_ can!
_Mr. T.R._ (_as they descend the stairs_). I say, SELINA, you forgot
to ask 'em where they are. Shall I run back and find out, eh?
_Mrs. T.R._ Not on _any_ account. They're probably at the Grand as
usual, and if they're not, it will be a very good excuse if I can't
call. You are such a _fusser_, ALFRED!
_Miss Sophy_ (_to_Miss MARY_). What a let-off! I wouldn't have minded
lunch so much--but _dinner_--no, thank you, my dear!
_Miss Mary_ (_gloomily_). She may call on Mother and ask us all yet.
_Miss Sophy_. She doesn't know where we are, and I took good care not
to tell her. It's getting too dark to see much, but we'll just walk
through the rooms, to say we've done it--shall we? [_They do._
* * * * *
A SETTLER FOR MR. WOODS.--Mrs. RAM does not at all wonder at Amateurs
being able to "pick up old pieces of china at CHRISTY's," for she has
often heard that you've only got to go to King Street, where anyone
may see them "knocked down under a hammer."
* * * * *
[Illustration: "OFF HIS FEED."
_Salisbury the Vet._ "HUM! SEEMS TO HAVE WASTED A BIT! WANTS A
TONIC."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "THINGS ARE NOT WHAT THEY SEEM."
_Mr. Foozler_ (_who, while waiting for the last Train, has wandered
to the end of the Platform, opened the door of the Signal-box, and
watched the Signalman's manipulations of the levers for some moments
with hazy perplexity, suddenly_). "ARF O' BURT'N 'N BIRRER F' ME,
GUV'NOR!"]
* * * * *
"OFF HIS FEED!"
SCENE--_The St. Stephen's Stables. Stall of the Favourite,
"Majority," who is being inspected by the great "Vet."
(S-L-SB-RY) in presence of the Groom (B-LF-R), and the
Stable-help (CH-PL-N)._
_Stable-help_ (_anxiously_). Why, he used to be a stunner, and a
safe and steady runner,
And we trusted him, most confident, for landing us the Stakes
Now, what can the cause of _this_ be? He's a-looking queer and
quisby;
And his off fore leg seems shaky, and the rest ain't no _great_
shakes.
_Groom_ (_sharply_). Not too much of it, you HARRY! You are here
to fetch and carry,
And not to pass opinions in the presence of the Vet.
But he _does_ look dicky, Mister; I've tried bolus, I've tried
blister,
But I haven't got him up to his old form by chalks, Sir, _yet_!
_Vet._ (_dubiously_). You're a bit new at the "biz.," lad, and I
tell you what it is, lad,--
These thoroughbreds aren't managed like a dray-horse, don'tcher
know.
They want very careful feeding, and Sangrado purge or bleeding
Won't suit our modern strain--of man _or_ horse. Steady, lad!
Woa! [_Examines him._
_Groom_ (_rather sulkily_). Well, Sir, what do you make it?
_Vet._ Off his feed?
_Groom_. Well, he don't take it.
Not voracious, so to speak, Sir, as he do when cherry ripe.
_Vet._ Ah-h-h! May want a change of diet. Eye is neither bright
_nor_ quiet,
And his coat seems dull and roughish, though he's sound in pulse
and pipe.
_Stable-help_. Don't take kindly to his fodder, and, what _I_
thinks even odder,
With a temper like a hangel, gits a bit inclined to kick.
Landed _'Art Dyke_ a fair wunner!
_Groom_ (_testily_). Well, you are an eighty-tonner
At superfluous patter, HARRY!
_Stable-help_ (_aside_). Lor! _His_ temper's gitting quick!
What has been and popped the acid in his style so prim and placid?
Doesn't shine like what he thought to as head-groom. Yus,
there's the rub!
_Vet._ (_looking at sieve_). Seem to shy _that_ feed!
_Groom_. I mixed it with the greatest care, and
fixed it
With an eye to tempt his appetite, but there, he's off his grub!
_Vet._ (_to Stable-help_). Takes your green stuff better?
_Stable-help_. True, Sir!
_Groom_. But too much o' that won't do,
Sir.
Can't live on tares entirely! (_Aside._) This here boy's too
full of beans.
_Vet._ Ah! I see the whole position. He's a bit out of condition,
Wants a tonic and skilled treatment. Yes, no doubt that's what
it means.
With an appetite that's picksome comes a temper tart and tric
But a pick-me-up--I'll send one--will, I'm sure set all that
square.
And if there's further wasting, then, without too headlong hasting,
Give him, as soon as possible--a little _Country Air_!
* * * * *