(A SKETCH IN REGENT'S PARK.)
_A railed-in corner of the Park. TIME--About 7 p.m. Inside the enclosure
three shepherds are engaged in shearing the park sheep. The first
shepherd has just thrown his patient on its back, gripped its shoulders
between his knees, and tucked its head, as a tiresome and obstructive
excrescence, neatly away under one of his arms, while he reaches for the
shears. The second is straddled across his animal, which is lying with
its hind legs hobbled on a low stage under an elm, in a state of stoical
resignation, as its fleece is deftly nipped from under its chin. The
third operator has almost finished his sheep, which, as its dark grey
fleece slips away from its pink-and-white neck and shoulders, suggests a
rather decolletee dowager in the act of removing her theatre-cloak in
the stalls. Sheep, already shorn, lie and pant in shame and shivering
bewilderment, one or two nibble the blades of grass, as if to assure
themselves that that resource is still open to them. Sheep whose turn is
still to come are penned up at the back, and look on, scandalised, but
with an air which seems to express that their own superior
respectability is a sufficient protection against similar outrage. The
shearers appear to take a humorous view of their task, and are watched
by a crowd which has collected round the railings, with an agreeable
assurance that they are not expected to contribute towards the
entertainment._
FIRST WORK-GIRL (_edging up_). Whatever's goin' on inside 'ere? (_After
looking--disappointed._) Why they ain't on'y a lot o' sheep! I thought
it was Reciters, or somethink o' that.
SECOND WORK-GIRL (_with irony_). They _look_ like Reciters, don't they!
It do seem a shime cuttin' them poor things as close as convicks, that
it do!
FIRST W.-G. They don't mind it partickler; you'd 'ear 'em 'oller fast
enough if they did.
SECOND W.-G. I expeck they feel so redic'lus, they 'aven't the 'art to
'oller.
LUCILLA (_to GEORGE_). Do look at that one going up and sniffing at the
bundle of fleeces, trying to find out which is his. _Isn't_ it pathetic?
GEORGE. H'm--puts one in mind of a shy man in a cloak-room after a
party, saying feebly, "I rather think that's _my_ coat, and there's a
crush hat of mine _somewhere_ about," eh?
LUCILLA (_who is always wishing that GEORGE would talk more sensibly_).
Considering that sheep don't _wear_ crush hats, I hardly see how----
GEORGE. My dear, I bow to your superior knowledge of natural history.
Now you mention it, I believe it _is_ unusual. But I merely meant to
suggest a general resemblance.
[Illustration: "They ain't on'y a lot o' sheep! I thought it was
Reciters, or somethink o' that."]
LUCILLA (_reprovingly_). I know. And you've got into such a silly habit
of seeing resemblances in things that are perfectly different. I'm sure
I'm _always_ telling you of it.
GEORGE. You are, my dear. But I'm not nearly so bad as I _was_. Think of
all the things I used to compare _you_ to before we were married!
SARAH JANE (_to her TROOPER_). I could stand an' look at 'em hours, I
could. I was born and bred in the country, and it do seem to bring back
my old 'ome that plain.
Her TROOPER. I'm country bred too, though yer mightn't think it. But
there ain't much in sheep shearin' to _my_ mind. If it was _pig
killin'_, now!
SARAH JANE. Ah, that's along o' your bein' in the milingtary, I expect.
Her TROOPER. No, it ain't that. It's the reckerlections it 'ud call up.
I 'ad a 'ole uncle a pork-butcher, d'ye see, and (_with sentiment_) many
and many a 'appy hour I've spent as a boy----[_He indulges in tender
reminiscences._
A YOUNG CLERK (_who belongs to a Literary Society, to his FIANCEE_). It
has a wonderfully rural look--quite like a scene in 'Ardy, isn't it?
His FIANCEE (_who has "no time for reading rubbish"_). I daresay; though
I've never been there myself.
The CLERK. Never been? Oh, I see. _You_ thought I said _Arden_--the
Forest of Arden, in Shakspeare, didn't you?
His FIANCEE. Isn't that where Mr. Gladstone lives, and goes cutting down
the trees in?
The CLERK. No; At least it's spelt different. But it was 'Ardy _I_
meant. _Far from the Madding Crowd_, you know.
His FIANCEE (_with a vague view to the next Bank Holiday_). What do you
_call_ "far"--farther than _Margate_?
[_Her companion has a sense of discouragement._
An ARTISAN (_to a neighbour in broadcloth and a white choker_). It's
wonderful 'ow they can go so close without 'urtin' of 'em, ain't it?
His NEIGHBOUR (_with unction_). Ah, my friend, it on'y shows 'ow true it
is that 'eving tempers the shears for the shorn lambs!
A GOVERNESS (_instructively, to her charge_). Don't you think you ought
to be very grateful to that poor sheep, Ethel, for giving up her nice
warm fleece on purpose to make a frock for _you_?
ETHEL (_doubtfully_). Y--yes, Miss Mavor. But (_with a fear that some
reciprocity may be expected of her_) she's too big for any of my _best_
frocks, _isn't_ she?
FIRST URCHIN (_perched on the railings_). Ain't that 'un a-kicking? 'E
don't like 'aving _'is_ 'air cut, 'e don't, no more shouldn't I if it
was me.... 'E's bin an' upset 'is bloke on the grorss, now! Look at the
bloke layin' there larfin'.... 'E's ketched 'im agin now. See 'im
landin' 'im a smack on the 'ed; that'll learn 'im to stay quiet, eh?
'E's strong, ain't 'e?
SECOND URCHIN. Rams is the wust, though, 'cause they got 'orns, rams
'ave.
FIRST URCH. What, same as goats?
SECOND URCH. (_emphatically_). Yuss! Big crooked 'uns. And runs at yer,
they do.
FIRST URCH. I wish they was rams in 'ere. See all them sheep waitin' to
be done. I wonder what they're finkin' of.
SECOND URCH. Ga-arn! They _don't_ fink, sheep don't.
FIRST URCH. Not o' anyfink?
SECOND URCH. Na-ow! They ain't got nuffink to fink _about_, sheep ain't.
FIRST URCH. I lay they _do_ fink, 'orf and on.
SECOND URCH. Well, I lay _you_ never see 'em doin' of it!
[_And so on. The first Shepherd disrobes his sheep, and
dismisses it with a disrespectful spank. After which he
proceeds to refresh himself from a brown jar, and hands it to
his comrades. The spectators look on with deeper interest, and
discuss the chances of the liquid being beer, cider, or cold
tea, as the scene closes._
[Illustration]