Undershell (sympathetically). I can quite imagine so. Not that he seems in any danger of that!
Checkley (triumphantly). There, you 'ear that, Adams? The minute he set eyes on the 'orse!
Adams. Wait till Mr. Undershell has seen him move a bit, and see what he says then.
Checkley. If it was what you think, he'd never be standing like he is now, depend upon it.
Adams. You can't depend upon it. He 'eard us coming, and he's quite artful enough to draw his foot back for fear o' getting a knock. (To Undershell.) I've noticed him very fidgety-like on his forelegs this last day or two.
Undershell. Have you, though? (To himself.) I hope he won't be fidgety with his hind-legs. I shall stay outside.
Adams. I cooled him down with a rubub and aloes ball, and kep 'im on low diet; but he don't seem no better.
Undershell (to himself). I didn't gather the horse was unwell. (Aloud.) Dear me! no better? You don't say so!
Checkley. If you'd rubbed a little embrocation into the shoulder, you'd ha' done more good, in my opinion, and it's my belief as Mr. Undershell here will tell you I'm right.
Undershell (to himself). Can't afford to offend the coachman! (Aloud.) Well, I dare say—er—embrocation would have been better.