There's enough
brass on this to load a mule--and, if the Americans know anything about
anything, it can be cut down to a bit only. 'Don't want the watering-bridle,
either. Humbug!--Half a dozen sets of chains and pulleys for one horse! Rot!
(Scratching his head.) Now, let's consider it all over from the beginning. By
Jove, I've forgotten the scale of weights! Never mind. 'Keep the bit only, and
eliminate every boss from the crupper to breastplate. No breastplate at all.
Simple leather strap across the breast--like the Russians. Hi! Jack never
thought of that!
Mrs. G. (Entering hastily, her hand bound in a cloth.) Oh, Pip, I've scalded my
hand over that horrid, horrid Tiparee jam!
Capt. G. (Absently.) Eh! Wha-at?
Mrs. G. (With round-eyed reproach.) I've scalded it aw-fully! Aren't you sorry?
And I did so want that jam to jam properly.
Capt. G. Poor little woman! Let me kiss the place and make it well. (Unrolling
bandage.) You small sinner! Where's that scald? I can't see it.
Mrs. G. On the top of the little finger. There!--It's a most 'normous big burn!
Capt. G. (Kissing little finger.) Baby! Let Hyder look after the jam. You know
I don't care for sweets.
Mrs. G. Indeed?--Pip!
Capt. G. Not of that kind, anyhow.
Pages:
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221