“That we do, and that we must, else the beggars will soon growl and may scatter the show.”
“And hitherto,” he added, “we have never known what hunger is. Look how well filled out our horses are, and how contented, and how their shins glitter like the back of a boatman beetle. See how contented our dogs all are and how happy Ralph is. But, Gourmand, my boy, the day might come when things wouldn’t be so comfy with us all. We might be reduced to starvation and have to kill and eat our horses.”
Gourmand laughed his gruff “Ho! ho! ho!” and added his half-comical “Ha! ha! ha.” “Not,” he said, “cap’n, whilst you have that nut on you. ’Xcuse me for calling it a nut, sir, won’t you?”
Captain Fitzroy sighed a three-to-the-pound sigh and shook his head.
“The nut is maybe all right, friend, but it strikes me we need a change of——”
“A change of programme, cap’n?”
“No, that isn’t quite what I meant, but a change of audience, a change of public. This part of England seems getting played out as regards the—ahem!—legitimate drama, Mr. Gourmand.”
“Too near London, eh?”
“That’s it, I think, and London is a jolly sight too near Paris. Ever been to Yorkshire?”
“They are rare fine animals up there, sir. But why shouldn’t we make a proper exodus when we’re about it. For I know that an exodus is in your noddle, and you’ll ’xcuse me for calling it a noddle, sir, won’t you?”