help you. I believe I could . . . if I left the room. But that's not what I mean.
Captain G. (aside.)—Give me patience! I wish she would go. (Aloud.) I assure you you can't do anything for me, Minnie, and I must really settle down to this. Where's my pouch?
Mrs. G. (crossing to writing-table).—Here you are, Bear. What a mess you keep your table in!
Captain G.—Don't touch it. There's a method in my madness, though you mightn't think it.
Mrs. G. (at table).—I want to look . . . Do you keep accounts, Pip?
Captain G. (bending over saddlery).—Of a sort. Are you rummaging among the Troop papers? Be careful.
Mrs. G.—Why? I shan't disturb anything. Good gracious! I had no idea that you had anything to do with so many sick horses.
Captain G.—'Wish I hadn't, but they insist on falling sick. Minnie, if I were you, I really should not investigate those papers. You may come across something that you won't like.
Mrs. G.—Why will you always treat me like a child? I know I'm not displacing the horrid things.
Captain G. (resignedly).—Very well, then. Don't blame me if anything happens. Play with the table and let me go on with the saddlery. (Slipping hand into trousers-pocket.) Oh, the deuce!
Mrs. G. (her back to G.).—What's that for?
Captain G.—Nothing. (Aside.) There's not much of importance in it, but I wish I'd torn it up.
Mrs. G. (turning over contents of table).—I know you'll hate me for this; but I do want to see what your work is like. (A pause.) Pip, what are "farcy-buds"?
Captain G.—Hah! Would you really like to know? They aren't pretty things.
Mrs. G.—This Journal of Veterinary Science says they are of "absorbing interest." Tell me.
