Chapter 6 - Page 2

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 Afghanistan.

MRS. G. In action? Oh, Pip, and you never told me!

CAPT. G. I'd forgotten all about it.

MRS. G. Hold up your arm! What a horrid, ugly scar! Are you
sure it doesn't hurt now! How did the man give it you?

CAPT. G. (Desperately looking at his watch.) With a knife. I came
down-old Van Loo did, that's to say-and fell on my leg, so I
couldn't run. And then this man came up and began chopping at
me as I sprawled.

MRS. G. Oh, don't, don't! That's enough!- Well, what happened?

CAPT. G. I couldn't get to my holster, and Mafflin came round the
corner and stopped the performance.

MRS. G. How? He's such a lazy man, I don't believe he did.

CAPT. G. Don't