[Horsey Men turn away despondently.  Enter hurriedly, a
    shabby-looking Groom.

Groom.  Oh, look here, Mister—­er—­er—­wot’s yer name?  His Lordship wants to know whether you’ll take his offer of Thirty-five Pounds—­or Guineas—­for that roan.  He wouldn’t offer as much, only it happens jest to match—­

C.G. (with great decisiveness).  Inform his Lordship, with my compliments, that I regret to be entirely unable to entertain his proposition.

Groom.  Oh, very well.  But I wish you’d jest step out and tell his Lordship so yerself.  He’s jest round the corner at the ’otel entrance, a flicking of his boots, as irritated as a blue-bottle caught in a cowcumber frame.

C.G. Oh, certainly, with pleasure. (To I.P.) If you’ll excuse me, Sir, just one moment, I’ll step out and speak to his Lordship.

    [Exit, followed by Groom.

Horsey Person (making a rush at I.P. as soon as C.G. has disappeared, speaking in a breathless hurry).  Now lookye here, guv’nor—­sharp’s the word!  He’ll be back in arf a jiff. You buy that ’oss! He won’t sell it to us, bust ’im; but you’ve got ’im in a string, you ’ave.  He’ll sell it to you for eighteen quid—­p’raps sixteen. Buy it, Sir, buy it!  We’ll be outside, by the pub at the corner, my pal and me, and—­(producing notes)—­we’ll take it off you agen for thirty pounds, and glad o’ the charnce.  We want it pertikler, we do, and you can ’elp us, and put ten quid in your own pocket too as easy as be blowed.  Ah! here he is!  Mum’s the word!  Round the corner by the pub! [Exeunt hurriedly.

Clerical Gent (blandly).  Ah! that’s settled.  His Lordship was angry, but I was firm.  Take Bogey back to the stable, TOM—­unless, of course—­(looking significantly at Inexperienced Person).

Inexperienced Person (hesitating).  Well, I’m not sure but what the animal would suit me, and—­ahem!—­if you care to trust it to me—­

Clerical Gent (joyously).  Trust it to you, Sir?  Why, with pleasure, with every confidence.  Dear old Bogey!  He’ll be happy with such a master—­ah, and do him service too.  I tell you, Sir, that horse, to a quiet, considerate sort o’ gent like yourself, who wants to work his animal, not to wear it out, is worth forty pound, every penny of it—­and cheap at the price!

I.P. Thanks!  And—­ah—­what is the figure?

C.G. Why—­ah—­eighteen—­no, dash it!—­sixteen to you, and say no more about it.

[Inexperienced Person closes with the offer, hands notes to Clerical Gent (who, under pressure of business, hurries off), takes Bogey from the grinning groom-lad, leads him—­with difficulty—­out into the street, searches vainly for the two horsey Men, who, like “his Lordship,” have utterly and finally disappeared, and finds himself left alone in a bye-thoroughfare with a “horse,” which he cannot get along anyhow, and which he is presently glad to part with to a knacker for thirty shillings.

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