OFF HIS GUARD
Farmer (just coming up.) "Young gentleman riding your brown horse, my lord, had nasty accident a field or two back. Barbed wire—very ugly cuts!"
My Lord. "Tut—tut—tut! Dear—dear—dear! Not the horse, I hope?"
Farmer (just coming up.) "Young gentleman riding your brown horse, my lord, had nasty accident a field or two back. Barbed wire—very ugly cuts!"
My Lord. "Tut—tut—tut! Dear—dear—dear! Not the horse, I hope?"