All language subtitles for All Creatures Great And Small - 01x09 - The Last Furlong.DVDRip.English

It's just the same as before,
Mr Herriot.

Thank you.

What's the verdict?
- We haven't reached one yet.

I don't know what
to make of it, Mr Herriot.

In me college days, I was always told
you got a big swollen bag

and dirty milk with them mastics.

But this must be a different kind.

It's just the flaky bits
in the milk?

Aye, the same
as when you last came.

Only off and on and neither nowt
nor summat. I'm right fed up.

It isn't ordinary mastitis.
- Thanks a lot.

It's worrying
the way it keeps going on.

I'm certain there's
a definite factor behind it.

I wish I could put a finger on it.

Oh, Mr Farnon!

What's up, Olive?
- Marigold stood on his foot.

Are you all right, Tris?
- It's nothing, just a broken toe.

It can be a bugger
when they put their weight on.

Let's have a look.
We don't want it getting germinated.

I wouldn't dream of putting you
to so much inconvenience.

It's no trouble, lad.
- It's very kind.

If I can get to the car,
we'll cut the boot off at home.

Oh! If Miss Olive
could just give me a hand.

Just you lean on me, Mr Farnon.

There. That's the way.

Now, take it slow as you please.

He's plucky, there's no denying.
I like to see that in a young fella.

I've got a lot of time
for Mr Pickersgill.

He gets all his words mixed up
like Mrs, er... Mrs Malaprop.

I've noticed that a few times.
- But you can't laugh at him.

He's a good stockman.
He looks after his beasts.

There are four children
grown up and gone away

but he brought them
all up decently

on ten cows, I think he had,
his wife's hens and a few pigs.

It's no mean achievement.
- No, it isn't.

What are these college days
he talks about?

He went on a two-week course

for agricultural workers
at Leeds University at 19.

Two weeks have lasted a lifetime.

Men have got less
out of four years at Oxford.

He's got a problem now.
- The flaky milk?

It's how he milks them?
- Hm. I've watched them both.

He hauls away as though he were
trying to ring in the New Year.

Chronic mastitis of traumatic
origins. I see your difficulty.

I know Olive wouldn't in the least
mind doing the milking herself

but I would hate
to hurt his feelings.

Try having a word with Olive
on the side.

It's the best idea yet.

Would you like a beer?
- Hm, please.

At least you'll dealing with
a Pickersgill and not a Sidlow.

Sidlow?
- You don't know them?

I don't think I do, in fact.

I find that remarkable.

You've never been called
to the Sidlows'?

No, but that's right.
They always happen when I'm on.

What's so special about them?

The Sidlows were created
to try the lives of unhappy vets.

They are the crosses which
each of us must expect to bear.

As bad as that?
- Worse.

You've had an astonishing
run of luck.

It can't possibly last.
Your turn will come, be sure of that.

All quiet on the western front?

It was.
- Care for a pint, James?

Well...
- Go on. Why not?

Thank you.

45 minutes to closing. I doubt even
Tristan can get sloshed in that time.

He puts things so charmingly.
It's hard to take offence.

How's the foot, by the way?
- Foot?

Oh, that. Oh, it's fine.
Just a bit of skin off the instep.

What did he do to his foot?

One of Pickersgill's cows trod on it.

What were you doing up there?

I haven't qualified yet.
I have an awful lot to learn.

As it was my free afternoon...
- Oh, shut up and buzz off.

See he behaves himself, James.
- I'll try.

Hello, old fella.

Shh!

Darrowby 85.

Yes, speaking.

Who?

What is it this time, Mr Sidlow?

One has to look at it
from a woman's point of view.

What does that mean?
- Must I spell it out?

Helen could have captured
any man she chose.

Handsome, rich, successful.

Like Edmundson?
- Since you mention him.

She's as wise
as she is beautiful.

She chooses you.
Young, devoted, steady, hardworking.

You'll make her a very good husband.

Thank you.
You make it sound so romantic.

That's what I was coming to.
What are your honeymoon plans?

I don't know. Drive around the Dales
and stop at little pubs.

You see? As a friend
with your best interests at heart,

I can say it - you're not a romantic.

So what do you propose?

You must learn to be.
It's so important to a woman.

Without romance
their lives are unfulfilled.

I'll bear that in mind.
- You'll start right.

The Dales and little pubs are not
the stuff honeymoons are made of.

Good Lord, is that the time?
It's your call, old chap.

Two pints of bitter, please.
Tris? Glass.

Thank you.

All right.
What are honeymoons made of?

I've given it some thought.
Look at this.

Thank you.

It's a fortnight's cruise
in the Mediterranean.

40 quid! Where will I find 40 quid?

That's your trouble.
The mundane approach. No romance.

Think big. Once you face
the problem it's half-solved.

With �10 in my account
I can see that.

That is a problem, I grant you.

Thank you.

To the face
that launched a thousand ships

and burnt
the topless towers of Ilium.

Helen, dear boy.
- Oh.

Let the thought of her inspire you.

Imagine yourselves on the great ship,

gliding through the summer seas,

the soft, spicy air,
jolly games on deck,

Stromboli erupting by night.
- Stromboli?!

They go that way sometimes.
It's just the feeling I was creating.

It doesn't create 40 quid.
- No, it doesn't.

Have you thought of
playing the horses?

Two bob on the favourite
is about my limit.

That won't raise the fare.

It's worth considering.
I've got a bookie I use.

Siegfried gets the odd tip
but he keeps quiet about it.

Thanks, I appreciate the thought
but I don't have that kind of luck.

Hup! Hup! Come on! Hup!

Right. Thank you.

Let's have a look, lady.

How old is she, Mr Sidlow?

25. Or thereabout.

It's a goodish age for any horse.

There's another
five years' work in her yet.

I trust you intend that as a joke.

But I see you don't.

Let me be plain.

The poor creature's moribund.
- Hm?

At the point of death, if you prefer.

You mean there's nowt
you can do for her?

How long have you been
treating her, Mr Sidlow?

Six days. Aye.
She were a bit colicky, that's all.

I stopped that.

Now she seems, er...
uneasy on her feet, like.

I suppose you've been administering

one of your father's
sovereign remedies?

Well, I've never known it
to fail till this once.

What was it, man?
- The old trick.

I've been pushing raw onion
up her rectum.

Three times a day.

I see.
It's hardly worth saying, I know,

but if I'd pushed
18 raw onions up yours

the chances are
you'd be uneasy on your feet, too.

Bring her outside, please.

Outside? What for?

I don't like unnecessary suffering.
I'm going to put her down.

Thou'll do no such thing.

I'm not in the habit
of repeating myself.

You'll do as I say.
At once, Mr Sidlow.

Come on.

I should never have mentioned
his name. I conjured the devil.

Mind you, James, Sidlow thinks
he's a just and humane man.

He usually gives his sick beasts
a week's devoted nursing

before calling us in.

Onions for horses.

A sick cow gets
half a pound of lard and raisins

thrust down her gullet
three times a day.

The udder must be vigorously
massaged with turpentine

and he cuts off the end of the tail
to let out the bad.

We have to be summoned when
he knows we can't do much good.

He wants to give
his animal every chance

and it proves his contention
that vets are useless.

Thanks for telling me.

I should also advise you

that the inevitable presence
of his five children,

who hang around like a silent chorus
in a Greek tragedy,

can be unnerving
if you're not prepared for it.

I see. Anything else?

I don't think so.
Just an obvious precaution.

Always turn the horses for home.
- Hm?

Park your motorcar
so you're ready for a smart getaway.

Mostly bills. A couple of cheques.

I don't know what this one is.
A classy piece of stationery.

Hm.

Well, well.
That really is rather nice.

What is?

No bushel could possibly conceal
a light like mine.

It burns with a flame
that demands recognition.

Nice build-up. What's the letdown?
- Isn't one.

Major General HW St John Ransom

requests the pleasure of
my company at Broughton Races.

Is that all?
- It's a great deal.

So some old blimp's
invited you to the races.

Major General Ransom
is one of the big noises

of the northwest racing circuit.

And their officials are looking
for a veterinary surgeon

to supervise all meetings.

This can only mean one thing.

They're going to examine me
for soundness.

I've heard that they think
I might be the man for the job.

They haven't asked you yet?
- No but they probably will.

If you took it, would that mean
giving up general practice?

No. It'd mean my spending three days
a week on racecourses,

which would affect this end...

Are you going to accept?
- I don't know.

One must weigh
all the pros and cons.

But it is an important job.

The supervisory vet has to deal
with cases of suspected doping.

In fact, he has to be
something of a specialist,

which as far as horses go,
is precisely what I am.

I think I'll take James.
It says "and partner", doesn't it?

You don't think just possibly
you're jumping to conclusions?

No, Tristan, I don't.

Oh, thank you, Mrs Hall.

On the whole it would be
a most congenial life.

I love the life
of the racing world.

I feel very much a part of it.

The extra money would come in handy,
no question.

There's no doubt about anything,
it would seem.

The date for your invitation
is certainly propitious -

Friday the 13th.

Tristan, if you're not being
tiresome, you're being absurd.

I'm the least superstitious
man I know.

Who was that?
- Mr Pickersgill.

He dosed one of his pigs for worms
and now it's gone bezique.

Bezique?
- That's what he said.

Sounds interesting.
What are the symptoms?

He said it's rampageous,
jumping about and rolling over.

Sounds pretty lively.

It looks as though
she's going to be all right.

What did you give her?
- Morphine hydrochloride.

What did you give her?
- Me?

You said something about
worm medicine.

Oh, aye, that's right.

A bloke came round selling this.

He said it'd shift any worms
you cared to name.

It nearly shifted your pig.

No wonder!
This smells like pure turpentine.

Turpentime?! Is that all it is?

Bloke said it was summat new.

Charged me an absorbent price
for it, too.

The dustbin's
the best place for that.

I reckon you're right.
- Dad?

Oh, in there, Olive, love.

What about her?
- Leave her to sleep it off.

If she's not right by morning,
call me.

You'll take a mug of tea?
- Yes. Thanks.

Ah, thanks, Olive.

Slice of cake, Mr Herriot?
- Mm. Looks delicious. Thanks.

You know, troubles always
come in cyclones.

That's what I always say.
Take the mastics, Mr Herriot.

No improvement?
- None, I'm sorry to say.

It's a real mystery, Mr Herriot.
And always cows Dad milks.

That's nowt to do with it, lass.
Coincidence, you might say.

But there it is.

I, erm...

I don't like to tell
any man his job...

but we've tried
your remedies, lad.

Milk's still flaky?

I can't say it isn't
for it wouldn't be the truth.

But I got to thinking last night.

When I was studying
at Leeds University

under Professor Mallison,
I noted down a lot of good cures.

I'd like to try this 'un.

Ooh!

Oh, bloody old back of mine.

By gow, it gives you stick.
- Have you seen a doctor?

He can't do nowt. I've had
enough pills to make me rattle.

I don't get no relief.
But never mind me. You read that.

Thank you.

Camphor. Eucalyptus.

Zinc oxide.

Oh, it's an udder salve.

That's right.
A good old-fashioned remedy.

I thought if maybe we gave
the bags a good rub with that

it might do the trick.

There's no harm in trying.

None at all.
I'll get some made up for you.

Good lad. I like an open mind.

But that back of yours.
- Yes?

You've had lumbago
since I've known you.

Longer.
- I've thought of something.

I think I know what might cure it.

Nay! You know
how to put me right?

I think so.
Nothing to do with medicine.

You'll have to stop milking.
- Stop milking!

It's sitting crouched
on that low stool

night and morning that's doing it.

You're a big chap.
You have to bend to get down there.

You think that could be it?
- Yes, I do.

It's worth a try, anyway.
Couldn't Olive do the milking?

All of it?
- There's only ten cows, Dad.

Course I can! I like milking.
You know I do.

And it's time you gave it a rest.

Dang it, young man,
I believe you're right.

I'll pack it in now.

There's not many
I takes to these days.

But Mr Herriot's a grand lad.

I think so.
- But you've only got one room above.

Until we can afford
a place of our own, yes.

That'll be a while coming, maybe.

I expect so. Meanwhile,
I'm just another mouth to feed.

Aye. I was thinking
something of the sort myself.

Your mother was a grand cook,
God rest her.

Yes, she was.

And you've been cooking for your dad.

I've not heard him complain.
- Mother taught me pretty well.

Doesn't happen
if you haven't got the gift.

It's my opinion that every woman
should want to cook for her man.

I know what
you're going to say, Mrs Hall.

It's very kind of you
but this is your kitchen.

It wouldn't do for me to come in.

Well, now, it would...
and it wouldn't.

It is my kitchen and it isn't.

You might say it was
Mr Farnon's kitchen, too.

I had a thought in mind.
I'm getting no younger, lass.

That goes for all of us.

There are some
better placed than others.

Me sister's poorly.
I'd like the extra day.

You'd be doing me a real favour
and you'd be keeping your hand in.

Oh, Mrs Hall, you're a real dear.

Aye, well, let's get that table laid.

There you are. What was it?
- Patent worm medicine.

Oh!

Ah... now, about tomorrow.

Tomorrow?

Friday the 13th.

Oh, your great day
at Broughton Races.

I'd like you to come with me.
- Me? Whatever for?

The pleasure of your company.
Besides, I think you bring me luck.

You don't need that kind of luck.
This will be a cakewalk.

Yes, but still.

It is Friday the 13th.

I thought you
weren't superstitious.

I'm not but there's no earthly point
in taking avoidable risks.

Sensible, I agree.
So am I a sort of lucky mascot?

Yes, that's a fair description.

It's nice of you but I can't come.

Why on earth not?
- This is high-powered stuff.

I am not invited.
- Nonsense!

The invitation says
"Mr Siegfried Farnon and friend".

That's even better.
I thought it said partner.

Yes. They obviously expect you
to trot along

with some pedigree filly
straight out of Burke's Peerage.

That'd be a fatal error
of judgement.

Why?

General Ransom's
and Colonel Tremayne's wives.

They're both past their prime.

The sort of competition
you suggest would be unwelcome.

If I start off by putting
their noses out of joint,

my chances would be nil.

I see what you mean.
- So I should hope.

My mind's made up. I choose you,
James. There's an end of it.

There's no need to look so fed up.

I'm not a bit!
- Yes, you are.

Don't pretend. You are
the most extraordinary fellow.

Honestly, Siegfried, I've...
- It's not an extra duty!

It's a tremendous favour!
A day at the races?

Lashings of free grub and booze?
You should be thrilled.

But I am! Really I am!

You are?
- Hm!

Well, that's all right, then.

I've won! I've won!

Oh, Mr Farnon, you're so clever.

I didn't know you were
a betting man.

I'm not really.
The occasional flutter.

I do enjoy studying form
out of interest.

Sensible fellow.
And if you followed the form?

I'd not be the bookie's best friend.

Mr Farnon, would you mark
my card for the next race?

With great pleasure, Mrs Tremayne.

Do you know,
I really rather fancy Calypso.

Third last week.
Would you forgive us, sir?

When the game is against her,
this is the going she likes.

The weight's right, too.

Quite nice odds, I fancy.

I'd risk a bob or two.

Oh, but that's too, too exciting!
- She's nice, isn't she?

Holy mother!
It's the boy himself!

Stewie! Stewie Brannon!
What the devil are you doing here?

Well, I'm having
a day at the races,

like a few others I could mention!

Let me introduce...
- Saints preserve us.

It's been quite a few years.
- It certainly has!

Let me introduce Stewart Brannon,
another colleague.

General and Mrs Ransom,
Colonel and Mrs Tremayne,

my assistant, James Herriot.

Stewart and I went through
veterinary college together.

It's a pleasure,
ladies and gentlemen.

I wonder if you could spare him.

I'm after buying him a drink
for old times' sake.

Yes, of course. If we're not here,
we'll be at the car.

That's very good of you, sir.
Come on, Stewie.

Well... it takes all sorts.

It certainly does.

Well, what do you
think of him, my dear?

No, no. I mean Farnon.

Oh, quite entrancing, Hugh.

And I mean, it's so rare really,
isn't it?

What is?

One simply doesn't expect a vet
to be a gentleman.

Hm.

Sit down, Stewie.
What the hell was all that about?

All that frantic Irish.

I was really caught out there.
It was your grand friends.

The moment I started
I had to go on. I couldn't stop!

Now, listen. Tell me what the hell
you've been up to these last...

eight years, isn't it?
Eight years!

Well, let's see.
I got into finals after you left.

I pipped them both at the first go.

Thank you, James. Here's to
your very good health, Stewie.

Then I had a bit of bother
with surgery.

Cheers. Cheers.

Cheers.

You know,

I was finally launched on
the unsuspecting animal population

and I've been around
quite a bit ever since,

trying to find a place
with a living wage.

This three quid a week lark
is no cop when you've a family.

Family? Are you married?

Do you remember Meg Hamilton?

Meg...
- Meg Hamilton.

We got married when I...
Meg Hamilton!

Yes, of course I do.

When I got into the final year.

We've five kids now
and another on the way!

Five! Stewart, for God's sake!

Oh, it's wonderful. Really.

How do you manage to exist?

I couldn't tell you.
I don't know myself.

I just keep one jump ahead of ruin.

And... we're happy.

No! No!
- James, be a good chap.

No, it...

No, would you mind getting...
- James.

The same again,
if you don't mind. And anyway...

You seem to have lost
a lot of money, m'dear.

Well, where is that Mr Farnon?
He promised to mark my card.

He's so good on form.

He won't spend more time
than necessary with that person.

I'm not so sure.
Old comrades, you know.

I remember when I met...
- We've no time for that now.

Go off and see
if you can find him, will you?

Yes, sir.

And I stuck up
my plate in Hensfield.

Hensfield!
- A few months ago.

I know, I know.
But as long as it...

pays the housekeeping then...

Now that's mainly small animals,
isn't it?

I make my daily bread
almost entirely

by separating
the local tom cats...

from their knackers!

I bet you're good at it.
I'm sure you're very good at it!

The female felines of Hensfield
can walk the streets unmolested

thanks to me!

My dear.

I wonder if you'd be kind enough

to bring us three
very large whiskies.

And then do you think you could
keep on repeating the order

every time our glasses are empty?

Oh, you old bugger, Farnon.

You haven't changed a bit.

Really? Oh, that's rather nice.

And the funny thing is

I don't think you even really try.

Try to what?

What are you talking about?

Oh, nothing.

What have you been up to?

Meg Hamilton!

Yes, I'm looking forward to
meeting her again so very much.

I've tried everywhere, sir.

The only place I haven't tried
is the Half Crown marquee.

Don't be ridiculous.

I'm terribly sorry
to have kept you waiting.

Something rather wonderful
happened back there.

Can I present Stewie Brannon
who was an old colleague...

All right,
we've been through all that.

We've been waiting
and we want to get home.

Certainly, certainly.
We leave at once.

Stewie, I'll telephone you.
I'll... I'll... Stewie...

Stewie, old boy.

Find my car keys, will you,
old chap?

No, no, no, no, no.
No, no, no.

I dropped them...

somewhere on the course.

Sorry, sir.

I can't see them.

Oh, come on, man. Come on.

Did you drop them there?
- No. This is disappointing.

Well... they're definitely
not on the course.

Great heavens, Farnon,
have you got the keys or haven't you?

Go make other arrangements.
- Yes, sir.

Did you drop them here?

I...I... I don't know...

where I dropped them.

But it was somewhere on the course.

Damned disappointing.

They're definitely not
on the course.

Stewie, well done.
You've saved the situation.

Come on, get in.
I'll drive the blasted thing.

Just one moment!

The windscreen's very dirty.

Can't allow you to drive
in that condition.

No more flakes, Mr Pickersgill?
- Not a sign, Mr Herriot.

The moment we started using
that salve they began dispersing.

Milk's as clear as can be.
- I'm delighted.

And how's the lumbago?
- That's why I dropped by.

You capped it, lad, and no mistake.

I've never milked since that day.

I've hardly had a twinge
these last three weeks.

I'm truly grateful.
- There's no need to be.

It was just a lucky guess.

Hello!
How's the world treating you?

Never better, Mr Farnon.
I just dropped by to tell Mr Herriot

he's cured my lumbago
and I've cured them mastics.

We went back to Professor Mallison
for that, didn't we?

That's right!
- Well, I'll be getting along.

Bye, Mr Pickersgill.

Nice to see you, gentlemen.
- Always a pleasure to see you.

Goodbye.
- Bye, Mr Farnon.

I see they've appointed
Herbert Jarvis

to that job
on the northwest circuit.

Oh?
- Yes.

Nice chap.
Just the man for the job.

Wouldn't have done, James.

What wouldn't?
- Me getting the job.

I thought you wanted it.

It was a compliment being considered.

Things always work out for the best.
Stewie was sent by providence.

If I'd landed it...

I'd have been miserable as hell.

Ah. Well, what have you lined up
for the rest of the day?

Not a lot.
Over to the stables at Hardacre's.

Oh, really? You're fast
becoming the horse expert here.

Not really.
One of his racers damaged his knee.

I stitched him up
so I've got to go back

and remove the dressings,
see if he's OK.

Perhaps you'd like
to have a look at him for me.

Of course I would but I told
Dick Henley I'd help him

with a rig operation.

I'm sure you'll do
perfectly splendidly.

Right.

Easy, old fellow.

Easy.

Will he be all right, sir?
- He should be.

There was no damage to the joint
capsule or tendon sheaths.

Thank God for that.
- Almost done, old boy.

This should see you right.

Whoa.

You've made
a proper job of that, sir.

It looks as good as new.
I want to thank you, sir.

That's all right.
- No, I mean it.

He's one of my favourites.

Not just because
he's a good horse... but he's kind.

He's gonna be all right.

Look, I've been thinking.
Do you back horses?

Hardly ever.
Don't know much about it.

Well, never mind. But I'll give you
one to back this afternoon.

Kemal in the first race.

He's one of ours
and he's going to win.

You'll get a nice price.
Ten to one, at least.

Thanks very much.
I'll have half a crown on him.

Half a... half a crown?!

Not likely.
You put a fiver on his nose.

By Jove, so I will.

Mrs Hall! Mrs Hall!

Oh, there you are.

Anyone at home?

Mr Farnon's not back yet and
I don't know where Mr Tristan is.

Can you fix me an early lunch,
please?

Of course.
- I mustn't miss the first race.

Having a bit of a flutter?
- More than a flutter.

This is a certainty.
- I've heard that before.

How does that bit go? "There is
a tide in the affairs of men

"which, if taken at the flood..."

Well, I'm taking it.
- I'm not stopping you.

Fine. I'll scoot down
to the bank, nip home for grub

then hey-ho for Broughton Races.
I can see Stromboli!

Are you all right, Mr Herriot?
- Never better, Mrs Hall.

Shall I say you're out?

No thanks, Mrs Hall.

Hello. Yes? Yes, speaking.

Oh! It's Mr Sidlow!

Yes. Yes, of course.

That's all right.
I'll be right over.

You can forget about lunch.
- But you ought to eat.

I wish I could. If I step on it
I might make the bank

and get the job done in time.

It's these bouts of diarrhoea.
They come and go.

She gets thinner all the time.

How long have
you been treating her?

A few months. I started her
on ground eggshell in t'gruel.

It didn't work.
I tried stronger remedies.

This last week I've had her on
blue vitriol and dandelion tea.

I see.

Well...

I'm fairly sure
she's got Johne's disease.

What's that?

Oh, you call it "Jones" disease.

If I'm right, it's incurable.

Still, I'll make quite certain.
I'll take a sample of faeces.

Well, I'd better take her
temperature while I'm here.

My God! She swallowed it!

Swallowed what?
- My thermometer!

It's gone right up!

Damn and blast!
It's disappeared!

I'll not have foul language
in front of my children!

Let's have some action instead.
Don't just stand there gawping.

A bucket of hot water,
soap and a towel, please!

Do as he says!
Look sharp or I'll....

I'll let you know as soon
as I have the results.

I'm terribly sorry. I wonder, erm...
if you'll give me a push.

Give him a shove.

Tris. Tris!

In here.
- Thank God.

Has something happened?
- I must have your bookmaker.

Whatever for?
- The first race at Broughton.

You're too late.
- It's not over, is it?

It hasn't been run, has it?
- Five minutes ago.

I dropped five bob
on Shandygaff.

How do you know?
You're just sitting there.

Telephone.
It's a wonderful invention.

What won?

Some confounded animal called...
Kemal.

Romped home at 12 to one.

It was rotten luck, darling.
- It was worse than that.

It was the curse of the Sidlows.

Just to think... if I'd got to
Broughton five minutes earlier.

But you didn't!
It's no good brooding about it.

No, I suppose not.
But it did seem like a perfect idea.

I'm not sure those cruises
are all they're cracked up to be.

Some friends went on one.
They wrote it off as a dead loss.

Why?
- The company, I suppose.

They were cooped up with noisy,
nosy, unattractive people.

You just can't escape.

Well, that's what
they told me afterwards.

Perhaps it wasn't
a perfect idea after all.

Neither's this. It's our third.

Listen, I'm not saying it would
have been like that with us.

All I am saying is
I don't mind what we do

or where we go for our honeymoon,

just as long as
it's the two of us together.

That's all that matters to me.
- Roll on the day.

I still can't believe
it's happening.

Neither can I. Helen, you really
ought to keep the beast at bay.

I don't especially want to.
- The luck of some people.

Has Mrs Hall been sacked?
- No. I'm standing in for her.

She's visiting her sister,
so it's pot luck tonight.

Suits me.

Good Lord! Pot Luck!
That's a horse in the 3:30 tomorrow!

You're going to take the plunge.
Put your...

Oh, all right. Point taken.

One for you, James.
- Thank you.

Probably another toast rack.

Oh, well. I don't like
the look of this.

What is it?

It is tuberculin testing,
that's what.

Great Scott.

They want us to start this lot,
all round Ellithorpe, next week.

"Urgent. Without fail."
That's when you're getting married.

Yes, afraid it is.
- That's wonderful.

The practice going mad, a week's
testing at the back of beyond

and your wedding in the middle of it.

You'll be drifting gaily off
on your honeymoon

and I'll be charging around here.

I had no idea things would spring up.

That's your trouble.
You don't look ahead, just belt on,

to hell with the consequences.

Now just a minute!
- Which simply defeats me.

What's the hurry?
You're just a boy.

You've all the time
in the world to get married.

And that's another thing.
You hardly know the girl.

Oh, hell, Siegfried!
- Let me finish.

Your precipitative
marital arrangements

are going to cause me
a considerable headache.

Despite that I wish you well.

I sincerely hope everything
turns out for the best.

But I must remind you
of the old saying -

marry in haste, repent at leisure.

Damn it all! It was your idea!
I was all for leaving it...

Now, now, James.
Don't get excited. Calm yourself.

You're very young.
It's my duty to speak my mind.

You haven't done anything wrong.
Simply the improvidence of youth.

Thanks. Now, you listen to me.

We've got no real honeymoon plans.
Ellithorpe's fine. It's beautiful.

We'll stay at the Wheatsheaf
and I'll do the testing.

Testing? On your honeymoon?
You must be out of your mind.

I am not out of my mind.
- Well, what would Helen say?

She'll be delighted.
She can help me do the testing.

You're making me feel guilty.

Good.
- I won't hear of it.

I'll start the testing
at the Allens' farm on Monday,

do the smaller farms on Tuesday,
get married on Wednesday,

do the injections and
readings on Thursday and Friday.

We can knock hell out of
that list by the end of the week.

What is it?

It's an alarm clock from Aunt Lucy.

Useful.
- Very.

'With this ring I thee wed,

'with my body I thee worship

'and with all my worldly goods
I thee endow.

'In the name of the Father and
of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.

'Amen.'

Bye! Thanks, Tris!

Bye-bye!
- Bring him back!

I will bring him back!
- Bye! Bye!

Bye-bye!
- Bye-bye!

Oh, I'm glad that's over.

That's funny. Siegfried
forgot our wedding presents.

Oh, never mind.
- All right.

You knew, didn't you?

Yes.