The Judge of Horseflesh. Rare good shoulders that one has.
The Severe Critic (taking the remark to apply to the horse's rider). H'm, yes—rather—pity he sticks his elbows out quite so much, though.
[His Friend regards him in silent astonishment. Another Competitor clears a fence, but exhibits a considerable amount of daylight.
The Saturnine Stableman (encouragingly). You'll 'ev to set back a bit next journey, Guv'nor!
The Cockney Groom. 'Orses 'ud jump better if the fences was a bit 'igher.
The S. S. They'll be plenty 'oigh enough fur some on 'em.
The Severe Critic. Ugly seat that fellow has—all anyhow when the horse jumps.
Judge of Horseflesh. Has he? I didn't notice—I was looking at the horse. [Severe Critic feels snubbed.
The S. S. (soothingly, as the Competitor with the loose seat comes round again). That's not good, Guv'nor!
The Cockney Groom. 'Ere's a little bit o' fashion coming down next—why, there's quite a boy on his back.