[DAWKERS is a short, square, rather red-faced terrier of a man, in riding clothes and gaiters.]
HILLCRIST. Ah! Dawker, I've got gout again.
DAWKER. Very sorry, sir. How de do, ma'am?
HILLCRIST. Did you meet the Jackmans?
DAWKERS. Yeh.
[He hardly ever quite finishes a word, seeming to snap of their tails.]
HILLCRIST. Then you heard?
DAWKER. [Nodding] Smart man, Hornblower; never lets grass grow.
HILLCRIST. Smart?
DAWKER. [Grinning] Don't do to underrate your neighbours.