SCENE--_A railed-in corner of the Park._ TIME--_about_ 7 P.M.
_Inside the inclosure 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
snipped from under its chin. The third operator has almost
finished his sheep, which, as its dark gray fleece slips away
from its pink-and-white neck and shoulders, suggests a rather_
décolletée _dowager in the act of removing her theatre-cloak
in the stalls. Sheep, already shorn, lie and pant in shamed
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 aint on'y a lot o' sheep! I
thought it was Reciters, or somethink o' that.
[Illustration: "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 ridic'lus, they 'aven't the 'art
to 'oller.
_Lucilla_ (_to_ GEORGE). Do look at that one going up and sniffing at
the bundles 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.
_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 on 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_ Fiancée).
It has a wonderfully rural look--quite like a scene in 'Ardy, isn't
it?
_His Fiancée_ (_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 Fiancée._ 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 Fiancée_ (_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 whitechoker_). 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_ (_instinctively, 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-kickin'?
'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 aint got nuffink to fink _about_, sheep
ain't.
_First Urch._ I lay they _do_ fink, orf an' 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._
* * * * *