Her Mother. What a nice picture! Though one would have thought such smart folks wouldn't have come to dinner in riding-boots, and shawls, and things—but of course they can afford to be less particular. And the dessert is beautifully done!
In the South Room.
The I. Y. P. Why, here are "Neptune's Horses" again! Don't you remember we saw a picture of them before? But I like this better, because here you get Neptune and his chariot.
Her Mother. He's made his horses a little too like fish, for my taste.
The I. Y. P. I suppose they were a sort of fish—and after all, one isn't expected to believe in all that nowadays, is one? So it doesn't really matter.
First Horsey Man. Tell you what, Old Neptune'll come to awful grief with that turn-out of his in another second.
Second H. M. Rather—regular bolt—and no ribbons to hold 'em by, either!
First H. M. Rummy idea, having cockleshells on the traces.
Second H. M. Oh, I don't know—one of the Hussar regiments has 'em.
First H. M. Ah, so they have. I suppose that's where he got the idea.