THE MORBID MAN. I suppose there's always a accident o' some sort before they've finished. FIRST WOMAN. Oh, don't, for goodness' sake, talk like that--I'm sure _I_ don't want to see nothing 'appen. SECOND WOMAN. Well, you may make your mind easy--for you won't see nothing here; you _would_ have it this was the best place to come to! FIRST WOMAN. I only said there was no sense in paying extra for the balcony, when you can go in the area for nothing. SECOND WOMAN (_snorting_). Area, indeed! It might be a good deal airier than what it is, I'm sure--I shall melt if I stay here much longer. THE MORBID MAN, There's one thing about being so close to the jump as this--if the 'orse jumps sideways--as 'osses will do every now and then--he'll be right in among us before we know where we are, and then there'll be a pretty how-de-do! SECOND WOMAN (_to her Friend_). Oh, come away, do--it's bad enough to see nothing, let alone having a great 'orse coming down atop of us, and me coming out in my best bonnet, too--come away! [_They leave_. THE DESCRIPTIVE MAN. Now, they're going to make 'em do some in-and-out jumping, see? they're putting the fences close together--that'll puzzle some of them--ah, he's over both of 'em; very clean that one jumps! Over again! He's got to do it all twice, you see. THE JUDGE OF HORSEFLESH. Temperate horse, that chestnut. THE SEVERE CRITIC. Is he, though?--but I suppose they _have_ to be here, eh? Not allowed champagne or whiskey or anything before they go in--like they are on a race-course? THE J. OF H. No, they insist on every horse taking the pledge before they'll enter him. THE DESCRIPTIVE MAN. Each of 'em's had a turn at the in-and-out jump now. What's coming next? Oh, the five-barred gate--they're going over that now, and the stone wall--see them putting the bricks on top? That's to _raise_ it. THE MORBID MAN. None of 'em been off yet; but (_hopefully_) there'll be a nasty fall or two over this business--there's been many a neck broke over a lower gate than that. [_A Competitor clears the gate easily, holding the reins casually in his right hand._ THE J. OF H. That man can ride. THE SEVERE CRITIC. Pretty well--not what I call _business_, though--going over a gate with one hand, like that. THE J. OF H. Didn't know you were such an authority. THE S. C. (_modestly_). Oh, I can tell when a fellow has a good seat. I used to ride a good deal at one time. Don't get the chance much now--worse luck! THE J. OF H. Well, I can give you a chance, as it happens. (SEVERE CRITIC _accepts with enthusiasm, and the inward reflection that the chance is much less likely to come off than he is himself_.) You wait till the show is over, and they let the horses in for exercise. I know a man who's got a cob here--regular little devil to go--bucks a bit at times--but you won't mind that. I'll take you round to the stall and get my friend to let you try him on the tan. How will that do you, eh?