Hyacinth (angrily). Now, fellar, where are you pushing to, eh?
John. Beg parding, sir, I was a-looking for you, sir. (Places himself between Susan and Hyacinth.)
Hyacinth. Looking for me, fellar?
John. I ha' rubbed down your horse, sir, and I was a wishin' to know when you would like him fed. (Makes signs to Susan to leave the room.)
Hyacinth. Fed?—aw!—directly to be su-ar. (To Susan, who is going out.) Ar—don't you go.
John. No, sir, I ain't a-going. When shall I water him, sir?
Hyacinth (aside, Fellar talks as if the animal were a pot of mignonette). Ar—you'll give him some wataar as soon as he's eaten his dinnaar.
John. Werry good, sir; and how about hay, sir?
Hyacinth (aside, What a bo-ar the fellar is; I wish he'd take himself off). Weally, I must leave the hay to your discwession.
John. Werry well, sir; couldn't do a better thing, sir. How about his clothing? shall I keep a cloth on him, sir? (Winks at Susan, who goes out laughing.)