CAPT. G. You are you of course, and as long as you're near me--I can't explain exactly, but it's in the air. MRS. G. And that's why you wanted to send me away? CAPT. G. That's only when I'm trying to do work--grubby work like this. MRS. G. Mafflin's better, then, isn't he? CAPT. G. (_Rashly._) Of course he is. Jack and I have been thinking along the same groove for two or three years about this equipment. It's our hobby, and it may really be useful some day. MRS. G. (_After a pause._) And that's all that you have away from me? CAPT. G. It isn't very far away from you now. Take care the oil on that bit doesn't come off on your dress. MRS. G. I wish--I wish so much that I could really help you. I believe I could--if I left the room. But that's not what I mean. CAPT. 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! CAPT. G. Don't touch it. There's a method in my madness, though you mightn't think of it. MRS. G. (_At table._) I want to look--Do you keep accounts, Pip? CAPT. 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. CAPT. 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. CAPT. 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? CAPT. G. Nothing. (_Aside._) There's not much 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'? CAPT. 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. CAPT. G. (_Aside._) It may turn her attention. _Gives a long and designedly loathsome account of glanders and farcy_ MRS. G. Oh, that's enough. Don't go on! CAPT. G. But you wanted to know--Then these things suppurate and matterate and spread-- MRS. G. Pip, you're making me sick! You're a horrid, disgusting schoolboy. CAPT. G. (_On his knees among the bridles._) You asked to be told. It's not my fault if you worry me into talking about horrors. MRS. G. Why didn't you say--No? CAPT. G. Good Heavens, child! Have you come in here simply to bully me?