NICHOLLS: Volunteering him? TED: Finest horse in the parish. NICHOLLS: What’s his name? TED: Joey, zir. NICHOLLS: Hello, Joey. I’ve seen you before. TED: You saw great things I expect. Offi cer’s horse, I’d say. NICHOLLS: You would, would you? Enter Vet Bright. He admires Joey.
VET BRIGHT: No splints, no curbs, good feet and teeth. Sound as a bell. Fit for anything.
NICHOLLS: A hundred pounds then. ARTHUR: Eh?
TED: Thank you, sir. Not bad, eh, Arthur? This horse I shouldn’t’ve bought has turned out to be a bit of a money spinner.
Arthur can’t conceal his envy as Ted has his hundred pounds counted into his outstretched hand. Enter Albert.
ALBERT: He’s sold him, han’t he? He’s sold Joey to the army? Joey is my ’orse!
NICHOLLS: Steady on, young man. ALBERT: If Joey goes, I go. I’ll volunteer. NED: (to Nicholls) He’s only just sixteen. NICHOLLS: You have to be seventeen. Enter Rose.
ROSE: Albert? ALBERT: (to Rose) He’s sold him to the army – TED: A hundred pounds, Rose –
