_The I. Y. P._ Why, here are "_Neptune's Horses" again!_ Don't you
remember we saw a picture of them before? But I like this better,
because here you get Neptune and his chariot.
_Her Mother._ He's made his horses a little too like fish, for my
taste.
_The I. Y. P._ I suppose they _were_ a sort of fish--and after all,
one isn't expected to believe in all that nowadays, is one? So it
doesn't really matter.
_First Horsey Man._ Tell you what, Old Neptune'll come to awful grief
with that turn-out of his in another second.
_Second H. M._ Rather--regular bolt--and no ribbons to hold 'em by,
either!
_First H. M._ Rummy idea, having cockleshells on the traces.
_Second H. M._ Oh, I don't know--one of the Hussar regiments has 'em.
_First H. M._ Ah, so they have. I suppose that's where he got the
idea.
[_They go out, feeling that the picture is satisfactorily
accounted for._
_The P. P. (before a small canvas)._ Yes, this is the right thing at
last. The paper doesn't seem to put it out in the least, and the sort
of subject, you know, that _no_ one can object to. I've quite fallen
in love with it. I don't care what it costs--I positively _must_ have
it. I'm sure the wife will be as fond of it as I am. I only hope it's
not sold--here, let's go and see.
[_They go._