--ya'as--I dare say I shall
be able to exist in it as long as may be necessary--ar--let me have
dinnaar, young woman, as soon as it can be got weady.

Susan. Yes, sir. What would you please to like, sir?

~347~~ Hyacinth (looking at her with his glass still in his eye). Hem!
pwetty gal--ar--like, my dear, like?--(vewy pwetty gal!)

Susan. Beg pardon, sir, what did you say you would like?

Hyacinth. Chickens tender here, my dear?

Susan. Very tender, sir.

Hyacinth (approaching her). What's your name, my dear?

Susan. Susan, if you please, sir.

Hyacinth. Vewy pwetty name, indeed--(aside, Gal's worth
cultivating--I'll do a little bit of fascination). Ahem! Chickens,
Susan, are not the only things that can be tendar. (Advances, and
attempts to take lier hand. Enter John hastily, and runs against
Hyacinth, apparently by accident.)

Hyacinth (angrily). Now, fellar, where are you pushing to, eh?

John. Beg parding, sir, I was a-looking for you, sir. (Places himself
between Susan and Hyacinth.)

Hyacinth. Looking for me, fellar?

John. I ha' rubbed down your horse, sir, and I was a wishin' to know
when you would like him fed. (Makes signs to Susan to leave the room.)

Hyacinth. Fed?--aw!--directly to be su-ar. (To Susan, who is going out.)
Ar--don't you go.

John. No, sir, I ain't a-going. When shall I water him, sir?

Hyacinth (aside, Fellar talks as if the animal were a pot of
mignonette). Ar--you'll give him some wataar as soon as he's eaten his
dinnaar.

John. Werry good, sir; and how about hay, sir?

Hyacinth (aside, What a bo-ar the fellar is; I wish he'd take himself
off). Weally, I must leave the hay to your discwession.

John. Werry well, sir; couldn't do a better thing, sir. How about his
clothing? shall I keep a cloth on him, sir? (Winks at Susan, who goes
out laughing.)

Hyacinth. Yaas! You can keep a cloth on--ar--and--that will do. (Waves
his hand towards the door.)

John. Do you like his feet stopped at night, sir?

Hyacinth. Ar--I leave all these points to my gwoom--ar--would you go?

John. I suppose there will be no harm in water-brushing his mane?

Hyacinth (angrily). Ar--weally I--ar--will you go?

John. Becos some folks thinks it makes the hair come off.

~348~~ Hyacinth (indignantly). Ar--leave the woom, fellar! John. Yes,
sir; you may depend upon me takin' proper care of him, sir; and if I
should think o' anything else, I'll be sure to come and ask you, sir.
(Goes out grin