Voces Populi Part 21

RIDING MASTER (_saluting with cane_). Evenin', Gentlemen--your 'orses will be in directly; 'ope we shall see some _ridin'_ this time.

(_Clatter without; enter Stablemen with horses._) Let me see--Mr.

Bilbow-Kay, Sir, you'd better ride the _Shar_; he ain't been out all day, so he'll want some 'andling. (Mr. B.-K., _with a sickly smile, accepts a tall and lively horse_.) No, Mr. Tongs, that ain't _your_ 'orse to-day--you've got beyond _'im_, Sir. We'll put you up on _Lady Loo_; she's a bit rough till you get on terms with her, but you'll be all right on her after a bit. Yes, Mr. Joggles, Sir, you take _Kangaroo_, please. Mr. b.u.mpas, I've 'ad the _Artful Dodger_ out for you; and mind he don't get rid of you so easy as he did Mr. Gripper last time. Got a nice 'orse for _you_, Mr. 'Arry Sn.i.g.g.e.rs, Sir--_Frar Diavolo_. You mustn't take no notice of his bucking a bit at starting--he'll soon leave it off.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "YOU AIN'T NO MORE 'OLD ON THAT SADDLE THAN A STAMP WITH THE GUM LICKED OFF!"]

MR. Sn.i.g.g.e.rS (_who conceals his qualms under a forced facetiousness_).

Soon leave _me_ off you mean!

R. M. (_after distributing the remaining horses_). Now then--bring your 'orses up into line, and stand by, ready to mount at the word of command, reins taken up in the left 'and with the second and little fingers, and a lock of the 'orse's mane twisted round the first. Mount!

That 'orse ain't a _bicycle_, Mr. Sn.i.g.g.e.rs. [Mr. S. (_in an undertone_).

No--worse luck!] Number off! Walk! I shall give the word to trot directly, so now's the time to improve your seats--that back a bit straighter, Mr. 'Ooper. No. 4 just fall out, and we'll let them stirrup-leathers down another 'ole or two for yer. (_No. 4, who has just been congratulating himself that his stirrups were conveniently high, has to see them let down to a distance where he can just touch them by stretching._) Now you're all comfortable. ["Oh, _are_ we?" _from_ MR.

S.] Trot! Mr. Tongs, Sir, 'old that 'orse in--he's gettin' away with you already. Very bad, Mr. Joggles, Sir--keep those 'eels down! Lost your stirrup, Mr. Jelly? Never mind that--_feel_ for it, Sir. I want you to be independent of the irons. I'm going to make you ride without 'em presently. (Mr. Jelly _shivers in his saddle_.) Captin' Cropper, Sir; if that Volunteer ridgment as you're goin' to be the Major of sees you like you are now, on a field-day--they'll 'ave to fall out to _larf_, Sir!

(Mr. Cropper _devoutly wishes he had been less ingenuous as to his motive for practising his riding_.) Now, Mr. Sn.i.g.g.e.rs, make that 'orse learn 'oo's the master! [Mr. S. "He _knows_, the brute!"]

MRS. B.-K. He's very rude to all the Cla.s.s, except dear Robert--but then Robert has such a nice easy seat.

THE R. M. Mr. Bilbow-Kay, Sir, try and set a bit closer. Why, you ain't no more 'old on that saddle than a stamp with the gum licked off!

Can-ter! _You're_, all right, Mr. Joggles--it's on'y his play; set down on your saddle, Sir!... I didn't say on the ground!

MRS. B.-K. (_anxiously to her_ SON, _as he pa.s.ses_). Bob, are you quite sure you're safe? (_To_ FRIEND.) His horse is snorting so dreadfully!

R. M. 'Alt! Every Gentleman take his feet out of the stirrups, and cross them on the saddle in front of him. Not your _feet_, Mr. Sn.i.g.g.e.rs, we ain't Turks 'ere!

MR. S. (_sotto voce_). "There's _one_ bloomin' Turk 'ere, anyway!"

R. M. Now then--Walk!... Trot! Set back, Gentlemen, set back all--'old on by your knees, not the pommels. _I_ see you, Mr. Jelly, kitchin' old o' the mane--I shall 'ave to give you a 'ogged 'orse next time you come.

Quicken up a bit--this is a ride, not a funeral. Why, I could _roll_ faster than you're trotting! Lor, you're like a row o' Guy Foxes on 'orseback, you are! Ah, I thought I'd see one o' you orf! Goa-ron, all o' you, you don't come 'ere to _play_ at ridin'--I'll make you ride afore I've done with you! 'Ullo, Mr. Joggles, nearly gone that time, Sir! There, that'll do--or we'll 'ave all your saddles to let unfurnished. Wa--alk! Mr. Bilbow-Kay, when your 'orse changes his pace sudden, it don't look well for you to be found settin' 'arf way up his neck, and it gives him a bad opinion of yer, Sir. Uncross stirrups! Trot on! It ain't no mortal use your clucking to that mare, Mr. Tongs, Sir, because she don't understand the langwidge--touch her with your 'eel in the ribs. Mr. Sn.i.g.g.e.rs, that 'orse is doin' jest what he likes with you.

'It 'im, Sir; he's no friends and few relations!

MR. S. (_with spirit_). _I_ ain't going to 'it 'im. If you want him 'it, get up and do it yourself!

R. M. When I say "Circle Right"--odd numbers'll wheel round and fall in be'ind even ones. Circle _Right_!... Well, if ever I--I didn't tell yer to fall _off_ be'ind. Ketch your 'orses and stick to 'em next time.

Right In-_cline_! O' course, Mr. Joggles, if you prefer takin' that animal for a little ride all by himself we'll let you out in the streets--otherwise p'raps you'll kindly follow yer leader. Captain Cropper, Sir, if you let that curb out a bit more, _Reindeer_ wouldn't be 'arf so narsty with yer.... Ah, now you _'ave_ done it. You want _your_ reins painted different colours and labelled, Sir, you do. 'Alt, the rest of you.... Now, seein' you're shook down in your saddles a bit--["_Shook_ up'_s_ _more like it_!" _from_ Mr. S.]--we'll 'ave the 'urdles in and show you a bit o' Donnybrook! (_The Cla.s.s endeavours to a.s.sume an air of delighted antic.i.p.ation at this pleasing prospect._) _To_ a.s.sistant R. M., (_who has entered and said something in an undertone_.) Eh, Captin' 'Edstall here, and wants to try the grey cob over 'urdles? Ask him if he'll come in now--we're just going to do some jumping.

a.s.sIST. R. M. This lot don't look much like going over 'urdles--'cept in front o' the 'orse, but I'll tell the Captain.

[_The hurdles are brought in and propped up._ _Enter a well-turned-out_ STRANGER, _on a grey cob_.

MR. Sn.i.g.g.e.rS (_to him_). You ain't lost nothing by coming late, I can tell yer. We've bin having a gay old time in 'ere--made us ride without sterrups, he did!

CAPTAIN HEADSTALL. Haw, really? Didn't get gra.s.sed, did you?

MR. S. Well, me and my 'orse separated by mutual consent. I ain't what you call a fancy 'orseman. We've got to go at that 'urdle in a minute.

How do _you_ like the ideer, eh? It's no good funking it--it's got to be _done_!

R. M. Now, Captin--not _you_, Captin Cropper--Captin 'Edstall _I_ mean, will you show them the way over, please?

[CAPTAIN H. _rides at it_; _the cob jumps too short, and knocks the hurdle down--to his rider's intense disgust_.

MR. S. I say, Guvnor, that was a near thing. I wonder you weren't off.

CAPT. H. I--ah--don't often come off.

MR. S. You won't say that when you've been 'ere a few times. You see, they've put you on a quiet animal this journey. _I_ shall try to get him myself next time. He be'aves like a gentleman, _he_ does.

CAPT. H. You won't mount him, if you take my advice--he has rather a delicate mouth.

MR. S. Oh, I don't mind that--I should ride him on the curb o' course.

[_The Cla.s.s ride at the hurdle one by one._

R. M. Now, Mr. Sn.i.g.g.e.rs, give 'im more of 'is 'ed than that, Sir--or he'll take it.... Oh, Lor, well, it's soft falling luckily! Mr. Joggles, Sir, keep him back till you're in a line with it.... Better, Sir; you come down true on your saddle afterwards anyway!... Mr. Parabole!... Ah, _would_ you? _Told_ you he was tricky, Sir! Try him at it again....

Now--over!... Yes, and it is over, and no mistake!

MRS. B.-K. Now it's Robert's turn. I'm afraid he's been overtiring himself, he looks so pale. Bob, you won't let him jump too high, _will_ you?--Oh, I daren't look. Tell me, my love,--is he _safe_?

HER FRIEND. Perfectly--they're just brushing him down.

AFTERWARDS.

MRS. B.-K. (_to her_ SON). Oh, Bob, you must never think of jumping again--it _is_ such a dangerous amus.e.m.e.nt!

ROBERT (_who has been cursing the hour in which he informed his parent of the exact whereabouts of the school_). It's all right with a horse that knows _how_ to jump. Mine didn't.

THE FRIEND. I _thought_ you seemed to jump a good deal higher than the horse did. They ought to be trained to keep close under you, oughtn't they? [ROBERT _wonders if she is as guileless as she looks_.]

CAPT. CROPPER (_to the_ R. M.) Oh, takes about eight months, with a lesson every day, to make a man efficient in the Cavalry, does it? But, look here--I suppose four more lessons will put _me_ all right, eh? I've had _eight_, y' know.

R. M. Well, Sir, if you _arsk_ me, I dunno as another arf dozen 'll do you any 'arm--but, o'course, that's just as _you_ feel about it.

[CAPTAIN CROPPER _endeavours to extract encouragement from this Delphic response_.]

The Impromptu Charade-Party.

SCENE--_The Library of a Country-House; the tables and chairs are heaped with brocades, draperies, and properties of all kinds, which the Ladies of the company are trying on, while the men rack their brains for a suitable Word._ _In a secluded corner_, MR. NIGHTINGALE _and_ MISS ROSE _are conversing in whispers_.

MR. WHIPSTER (_Stage-Manager and Organizer--self-appointed_). No--but I say, _really_, you know, we _must_ try and decide on something--we've been out half-an-hour, and the people will be getting impatient! (_To the Ladies._) Do come and help; it's really no use dressing up till we've settled what we're going _to do_. Can't _anybody_ think of a good Word?

MISS LARKSPUR. We ought to make a continuous story of it, with the same plot and characters all through. We did that once at the Grange, and it was awfully good--just like a regular Comedy!

MR. WHIPSTER. Ah, but we've got to hit on _a Word_ first. Come--n.o.body got an idea? Nightingale, you're not much use over _there_, you know. I hope you and Miss Rose have been putting your heads together?

MR. NIGHTINGALE (_confused_). Eh? No, nothing of the sort! Oh, ah--yes, we've thought of a _lot_ of Words.