[In a whisper.] I see, sir—you ain’t going to lose half a chance for to-morrow, sir—you’re a knowin’ one, sir, as the sayin’ goes!
The Dean.
[Shrinking from Blore with a groan.] Oh! [He places the medicine chest on the table and takes up the book. Handing the book to Blore with his finger on a page.] Fetch these humble but necessary articles from the kitchen—quick. I’ll mix the Bolus here. [Blore goes out quickly.] It is exactly seven and twenty years since I last approached a horse medically. [He takes off his coat and lays it on a chair, then rolls his shirt-sleeves up above his elbows and puts on his glasses.] I trust that this Bolus will not give the animal an unfair advantage over his competitors. I don’t desire that! I don’t desire that! [Blore re-enters carrying a tray, on which are a small flour-barrel and rolling-pin, a white china basin, a carafe of water, a napkin, and the book. The Dean recoils, then guiltily takes the tray from Blore and puts it on the table.] Thank you.
Blore.
[Holding on to the window curtain and watching The Dean.] His eyes is awful; I don’t seem to know the ’appy Deanery when I see such proceedings a’goin’ on at the dead of night.
[There is a heavy roll of thunder—The Dean mixes a pudding and stirs it with the rolling-pin.
The Dean.
The old half-forgotten time returns to me. I am once again a promising youth at college.
Blore.
[To himself.] One would think by his looks that he was goin’ to poison his family instead of—Poison! Poison! Oh, if hanything serious ’appened to the hanimal in our stable there would be nothing in the way of Bonny-Betsy, the deservin’ ’orse I’ve trusted with my ’ard-earned savings!