_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 G.L._ 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 goins 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'.