MISS DIANA'S VOICE (_outside_). Yes, you might put it in here for the present, Stubbs. I suppose it will be quite safe? STUBBS' VOICE. Safe enough, Miss, there's plenty o' empty stalls this side. Nothing _in_ 'ere just now, except---- MISS D.'S VOICE. Very well, then. Just wipe some of the dust off the mud-guards, because I shall want it again after lunch. And mind you don't scratch the enamel taking it in. STUBBS. Very good, Miss. I'll be keerful. [_MISS DIANA'S steps die away upon the cobbles._ BAYARD (_to himself_). She's gone--without even asking after me! What has she been out in--a bath chair? I'm sure she _must_ be ill. STUBBS (_to the Bicycle, as he wheels it in_). 'Ere, steady now, 'old up, can't ye? And keep that blarsted near pedal o' yourn off o' _my_ enamel. Blest if I wouldn't rather rub down arf a dozen 'unters nor one o' them yere bloomin' bi-cycles. I know where I _am_ with a 'orse; but these 'ere little, twisty, spidery wheels----Come _over_, will ye. I'll lean ye up agen 'ere till I've 'ad my dinner. [Illustration: "It must be a sort of animal, I suppose."] [_He places the machine against a partition next to BAYARD'S stall, and goes out._ BAYARD (_to himself, as he inspects his neighbour with the corner of his eye_). It's _not_ a bath-chair; it's one of these bicycles. It must be a sort of animal, I suppose, or Stubbs wouldn't have spoken to it. I should like to ask it one or two questions. (_He gets his neck over the partition, and breathes gently through his nostrils upon the handle-bars._) Excuse me, but do you understand horse-language at all? The BICYCLE (_answering by a succession of saddle-creaks_). Perfectly. I'm a kind of horse myself, I believe, only greatly _improved_, of course. _Would_ you mind not breathing on my handle-bars like that? It tarnishes the plating so. The saddle is the seat of _my_ intelligence, if you will kindly address your remarks here. BAYARD. I beg your pardon. I will in future. I don't creak myself, but I've been closely connected with saddles ever since I was a two-year-old, so I can follow you fairly well. Didn't I hear my mistress's voice outside just now? The BICYCLE. No; _my_ mistress's, Miss Diana's. I'd just taken her out for a short spin--not far, only fifteen miles or so. BAYARD. Then, she--she's quite well? The BICYCLE. Thanks, she's pedalling pretty strong just now. I'm going out with her again this afternoon. BAYARD. Again! You will have had a hard day of it altogether, then. But I suppose you'll get a day or two's rest afterwards? I know _I_ should want it. The BICYCLE. Bless you, _I_ never want rest. Why, I've been forty miles with her, and come home without clanking a link! _She_ was knocked up, if you like--couldn't go out for days! BAYARD. Ah, she was never knocked up after riding _me_!