[Looking at Sheba.] Why, little ’un, your stable companion could give you a stone and then get her nose in front!
The Dean.
[Who has been impatiently fuming.] Georgiana, I fear these poor innocents don’t follow your well-intentioned but inappropriate illustrations.
Georgiana.
Oh, we’ll soon wake ’em up. Well, Augustin, my boy, it’s nearly twenty years since you and I munched our corn together.
The Dean.
Our estrangement has been painfully prolonged.
Georgiana.
Since then we’ve both run many races, though we’ve never met in the same events. The world has ridden us both pretty hard at times, Gus, hasn’t it? We’ve been punished and pulled and led down pretty often, but here we are [tapping him sharply in the chest with her cane] sound in the wind yet. You’re doing well, Gus, and they say you’re going up the hill neck-and-neck with your Bishop. I’ve dropped out of it—the mares don’t last, Gus—and it’s good and kind of you to give me a dry stable and a clean litter, and to keep me out of the shafts of a “Shrewsbury and Talbot.”
Sheba.