Roto.
(Laughing.) Rabbits!
Robert.
(Smiling.) Don’t you speak of rabbits to a New Zealander! Rabbits are the very devil here! We poison ’em, we shoot ’em, we trap ’em, we set dogs on ’em, we set stoats on to ’em, we imported weasels to catch ’em, we sent to Europe for ferrets to hike ’em out, we breed cats to catch ’em, we wire ’em in, and burn ’em out, and set poisoned corn over their runs, and kill ’em by thousands—but millions of ’em spring up out of the very earth and sometimes threaten to starve out the sheep, they clear the grass out. Rabbits! For the Lord’s sake don’t speak affectionately of rabbits.
Loveday.
(Laughing mischievously.) Darling little furry things with nice white tails!
Robert.
(Groans.) But you’re joking! Come and I’ll show you why we sheep farmers hate ’em like poison.
(They stroll off together. Roto takes the empty pail and goes off. Nora and Gordon are left together.)