't you think that jam will
burn, or whatever it is that jam does when it's not looked after by a
clever little housekeeper?

MRS. G. I thought you said Hyder could attend to it. I left him in the
veranda, stirring--when I hurt myself so.

CAPT. G. (His eye returning to the equipment.) Po-oor little
woman!--Three pounds four and seven is three eleven, and that can be cut
down to two eight, with just a lee-tle care, without weakening anything.
Farriery is all rot in incompetent hands. What's the use of a shoe-case
when a man's scouting? He can't stick it on with a lick-like a
stamp--the shoe! Skittles--

MRS. G. What's skittles? Pah! What is this leather cleaned with?

CAPT. G. Cream and champagne and--Look here, dear, do you really want to
talk to me about anything important?

MRS. G. No. I've done my accounts, and I thought I'd like to see what
you're doing.

CAPT. G. Well, love, now you've seen and--Would you mind?--That is to
say--Minnie, I really am busy.

MRS. G. You want me to go?

CAPT. G, Yes, dear, for a little while. This tobacco will hang in your
dress, and saddlery doesn't interest you.

MRS. G. Everything you do interests me, Pip.

CAPT. G. Yes, I know, I know, dear. I'll tell you all about it some day
when I've put a head on this thing. In the meantime--

MRS. G. I'm to be turned out of the room like a troublesome child?

CAPT. G. No-o. I don't mean that exactly. But, you see, I shall be
tramping up and down, shifting these things to and fro, and I shall be
in your way. Don't you think so?

MRS. G. Can't I lift them about? Let me try. (Reaches forward to
trooper's saddle.)

CAPT. G. Good gracious, child, don't touch it. You'll hurt yourself.
(Picking up saddle.) Little girls aren't expected to handle numdahs.
Now, where would you like it put? (Holds saddle above his head.)

MRS. G. (A break in her voice.) Nowhere. Pip, how good you are--and how
strong! Oh, what's that ugly red streak inside your arm?

CAPT. G. (Lowering saddle quickly.) Nothing. It's a mark of sorts.
(Aside.) And Jack's coming to tiffin with his notions all cut and dried!

MRS. G. I know it's a mark, but I've never seen it before. It runs all
up the arm. What is it?

CAPT. G. A cut--if you want to know.

MRS. G. Want to know! Of course I do! I can't have my husband cut to
pieces in this way. How did it come? Was it an accident? Tell me, Pip.

CAPT. G. (Grimly.) No. 'Twasn't an accident. I got it--from a man--in
Afg