(BLEATING)
If you'd called me out sooner, Mr Kitson,
I could've saved the fourth one.
Three's a crowd, and four's nowt but a nuisance.
She'd be better off with just two.
That's a matter of opinion.
Thanks.
What's the trouble here?
She had a roughish time lambing yesterday.
What do you mean, "roughish"?
Big single lamb, a leg back, and I couldn't fetch it round.
And you pulled it out as it was with the leg back?
Aye. Nowt else I could do.
Could do with a bit of attention, Mr Kitson.
No, I want none of that.
It's all over with her. There's nowt you can do.
You mean she's dying?
That's right.
Yes, she is.
Ring Mallock to come and pick her up.
Thank you.
There's no point letting her suffer.
Aye, I'll do that.
-How much? -Oh, half a crown.
I'll have to go to the house for it.
It doesn't matter now, Mr Kitson.
It does to me.
I don't want none of your bills, I'll pay cash.
You wait here, young man.
I'll say this for you veterinaries...
You don't undercharge a man. Here you are.
Thanks.
(ENGINE REVS)
And I'll say this to you, Mr Kitson...
You've got a dying ewe in there.
She was worth a damn sight more than half a crown to you.
If you'd given me the chance, I could've saved her, too.
It's worth thinking about.
(GRUNTING)
What have you got, Mr Farnon?
Both legs back.
They're a long way in, Mr Dowson.
Look at the length of her pelvis.
I've seen longer.
(GRUNTING)
(STRAINING)
(TRISTAN WAILING)
I'm all right. It's just the uterus contracting.
That's to be expected.
It gets you round the...
(GRUNTING)
Between the calf and the pelvis.
Only natural that it should.
Ah... Ahhh!
(TRISTAN SCREAMING)
-Hello, Bob. -Hello, there, Mr Herriot.
-What's that you've got there? -Just you come and look, Mr Herriot.
Hello, chickens.
Great Scott, Bob. A Jersey!
Don't see many of those round here.
Pedigree long as your arm.
She's a beauty, Bob. Where'd you get her from?
Joan's dad.
Huh?
-The wife, Mr Herriot. -Oh.
Her old man's got a prize herd down in Sussex.
This were a present.
And it's a very handsome one, too.
She looks a bit tucked up.
Bound to, it's the cold. You know how those cattle trucks are.
-Mmm. -I've only just fetched her from the station.
Yes, of course.
Well, it's the cold you'll have to watch with her.
Never you fear, I'll nurse her like a baby.
She'll stay inside with the calf till the weather's right.
You will breed from her, of course?
Oh, aye, yeah, when time comes. Shorthorn cross.
Oh, yes. Good idea.
Any luck, you'll get the shorthorn yield and stamina, plus the Jersey cream.
Aye, that's what I was thinking.
Well, I'm glad to see you, Mr Herriot.
-Best of luck, Bob. -Thanks.
-There's young Mr Farnon down the road. -Oh?
I saw his car outside Dowson's place.
Oh.
(WHIMPERING)
(MOANING)
(WAILING)
(WAILING CRESCENDOS)
(SQUAWKING WILDLY)
(WAILING)
Is th'all right, young man?
Well, I'll get thee a sup to drink.
Hiya, Tris, how's it going?
(COW BELLOWS)
Good grief! You all right, Tris?
Thanks, old chap.
Tha'd best leave us, Mr Herriot. He needs his rest.
(EXHALES) Yes, of course.
What is it, Mr Dowson?
-A fine bull calf. -Ah.
Charlie's wisping her now. (CHUCKLES)
Here, get another drop of this brandy into thee, lad.
I've never seen anyone work harder.
Gave it all his heart, he did.
That's good stuff.
Wouldn't mind a drop meself. (CHUCKLES)
I don't hold with drinking for its own sake.
Only when it's needed, Mr Herriot.
(CHUCKLES)
(COW BELLOWS)
(CHORTLES)
Of course, you missed the really dramatic part of my performance.
Oh, I saw quite enough. "Gave it all his heart, he did."
No, Tris, any man who can get a three star brandy out of Dowson the way you did,
doesn't have to prove his point. I'm just envious, that's all.
Hello, there. A pint for Mr Farnon, please, Betty.
Thank you kindly.
-How was Kitson? -Unchanged.
One perfectly good ewe dying painfully
because he couldn't bring himself to call us in time.
-Typical. -BETTY: Here you are, Mr Farnon.
-Thank you very much, Betty. -Thank you.
-Good health. -Cheers.
-Did you tell him to call Mallock? -Yes.
-He won't, you know. -No, I know he won't.
So I slipped it 40ccs of Nembutal when he wasn't looking.
Any luck, it won't wake up again.
-Sensible thinking, James. -Hmm.
The Sidlows and the Kitsons of this world are callous devils.
Hmm.
-Tristan, how was your calving? -Not easy.
Cow with a back as long as a cricket pitch. But I managed pretty well.
James, he may not be qualified, but the boy is learning.
Oh, making great strides, I'd say.
There's praise for you. Did Dowson show you his pedigree bull?
No, there was no time for non-essentials.
(LAUGHING)
Sickness and diarrhoea? When did it start, Mrs Flaxton?
-Only yesterday. -Has she had a change of food?
-No, nothing like that. -Does she scavenge?
You know, is she inclined to eat rubbish when she's out?
I don't think so. Not as a rule, certainly.
Ah.
Well, she has a slightly raised temperature.
Seems bright enough, otherwise.
Let's have a feel of your tummy, Penny.
Ah.
-A touch of gastroenteritis. -Is that bad?
Mmm, it can be. This is quite mild.
I'll give you some medicine. Keep her on a light diet for a few days.
-That should do the trick. -Oh, I'm so grateful.
There we are.
-What is it? -It's our own special medicine.
Usually works very well. And if it doesn't, well, you can bring her back.
-Yes, of course. Thank you again, Mr Herriot. -Not a bit.
I'm so sorry.
-Hello! Mrs Flaxton. -Yes.
-Well, how are you finding Darrowby? -We love it, Mr Farnon.
Good, good. Excellent.
When you're settled in, you must bring your husband here for a drink with us.
-TRISTAN: Mmm. -Oh, we'd like to very much.
-Good. Well done. -TRISTAN: Bye-bye.
Goodbye.
-He looking after you? -Oh, very well.
Now, then, you two, leave her alone.
Have some manners with the lady! Go on, you.
Nice to see you, Mrs Flaxton.
-Thank you, Mr Farnon. Goodbye. -Goodbye!
My.
She's a ray of sunshine!
Could do with a few more like that.
Yes, she's sweet, isn't she?
Does Helen think so?
I'm not sure they've met.
I'm sure she would. I mean, you couldn't help it, could you?
Well, I couldn't, James, but you never know with women, do you?
-(CHUCKLES) -I know you've done with the fair sex.
What did you say to Kitson the other day?
-Kitson? -Well, whatever it was, you made a great impression.
He's just been on the telephone. He wants you out again!
Well, I'm down. What is it this time?
Another lambing, I believe.
-Oh. Wonders will never cease. -(CHUCKLES)
That was no great problem, Mr Kitson.
No. Not worth half a crown.
But I'm glad you called me.
I don't doubt it at that price.
But there's something to see.
Take a look, Mr Herriot.
(SHEEP BLEATING)
What's wrong with her? She looks fine.
-Aye, she does. -Well?
That's the old lass you told me to get Mallock to fetch.
What?
But she was dying.
Aye, that's what you told me, young fella.
Said she hadn't long to go, didn't you?
It's extraordinary.
Inflammation's gone.
No tumefaction.
I don't understand it, Mr Kitson.
I'll tell you summat, neither can I.
I spend all me life among sheep, and I've never seen nowt like it.
That ewe just fell asleep.
-Is that so? -Aye, fell asleep, I tell you,
and stayed sleeping for two days.
Two days?
She did.
I'm not joking nor jesting.
I kept coming in here and she never altered.
Lay there as peaceful as you like all through the first day,
all through the second,
and third morning, when I come in, she was standing there looking at me,
-asking for her grub. -(CHUCKLES)
I can't get over it.
Two whole days, and never moved.
I'll tell thee what, young fella.
You'd just think she'd been drugged.
Oh.
JAMES: Good Lord!
I wonder.
James, what is it?
Kitson's ewe.
Oh, no, darling, not now.
It's been on my mind all day, darling.
That was yesterday.
Oh, look at the time. It's five past 3:00.
Please, James, let's go back to sleep.
Sorry, love. This may be important.
I think I've hit on something.
All right.
-What is it? -This may be absolute rubbish.
I'll tell you if it is.
-That ewe was dying. -Mmm.
I have no doubt in my mind, whatsoever.
Dying and in pain. Frightened.
So I gave it a damn great shot of Nembutal while Kitson was getting my half crown.
-So? -It didn't die...
-Mmm-hmm. -...it slept.
It slept for two whole days and woke up well.
Now, why, Helen? Ask yourself that.
-Go on. -Well, one thing is obvious.
Its life wasn't saved by medicinal therapy.
I didn't give it any. So what did I give it?
-Sleep? -Exactly!
Continuous pain. Terror. Shock.
Now, do you think those things alone could cause an animal's death?
-Yes. -Mmm-hmm.
-Yes, I do, James. -Mmm.
But give it sleep, deep lasting sleep,
and those three things cease to exist for it.
And while they cease to exist,
well, you give nature a chance to do her own job of healing.
Does that sound like rubbish?
No, it doesn't.
-It sounds like a truth. -(CHUCKLES)
A very wonderful one.
James, you can't possibly be wrong.
Well...
I think you're wonderful, too!
(SNIGGERS)
-Mmm, still diarrhoea and vomiting? -Yes, it hasn't let up at all.
-When did Mr Herriot examine her? -Three days ago.
He told me to come back if the medicine didn't work.
Mmm. Well, it plainly hasn't.
Do you know what he prescribed?
He did tell me. Oh, I've got the bottle.
-Oh. I see. -You mean, it wasn't the right stuff?
Oh, no, nothing like that. This is a good, old-fashioned remedy.
I do rather wish you'd seen me in the first place, though.
-But surely Mr Herriot... -Oh, an excellent vet, first class,
in his own line of country.
Well, let me put it like this.
My brother, Siegfried, is an expert with horses.
Now, for cattle, sheep, pigs, you won't find a better man than Mr Herriot.
Now, in this partnership, domestic pets are very much my province.
Oh, I do wish I'd known, but he seemed so very reassuring.
Well, of course he did, quite rightly so.
He was on duty here, I'd been called out,
and it looked like a simple case of gastroenteritis.
It still is, but we mustn't allow it to continue,
so I'm going to hit it on the head in one.
Oh, that would be marvellous.
-She's still eating, is she? -Oh, yes, her appetite's good.
Well, this stuff looks a bit messy,
but I've had splendid results with it.
Just mix it with her food.
Thank you so much, Mr Farnon.
You know, I was really beginning to get quite worried.
Well, I don't think you need any more.
Goodbye, Mr Farnon.
-Goodbye, Mrs Flaxton. -Goodbye. Thank you again.
-Oh, Mrs Flaxton? -Yes?
I don't anticipate any further trouble,
but if you feel the least cause for concern, don't hesitate to call me.
-Day or night. -Oh, I won't.
How very kind.
Not at all. All part of the service.
Thank you.
Goodbye!
(HUMS MERRILY)
-Was that Mrs Flaxton I heard leaving? -Yes, it was!
And what's up with you?
Me? Nothing, nothing, nothing. Just my usual joie de vivre.
Yes, she does have that effect on people.
How's Penny?
She was no better. She was much the same.
And why didn't you call me?
Oh, I didn't know you were back, old chap.
Anyway, both ladies seemed perfectly happy with my bedside manner.
Oh, I'm so sure they did. What did you prescribe?
Well, I seem to remember you saying
that this mixture of carbon and astringents is pretty hot stuff.
Oh, you didn't give her that, did you?
Yes.
Well, I mean, it couldn't do any harm, could it?
On the contrary, my dear Tris, it's just what the doctor ordered.
-Well, what this doctor would've ordered anyway. -Well, there you are then.
Yes, there I am. Where's Siegfried?
Haven't seen him. He left a note on the pad, "Called out to Bob Rigby."
Bob Rigby?
When did you notice something wrong, Bob?
Hard to say, Mr Farnon.
She had a roughish trip up with the calf.
Well, yeah, it was long and cold.
And like Mr Herriot said, she seemed a bit tucked up.
Just a chill, I reckoned, so I brought her straight in here,
and she's been well bedded down since.
Thank you.
Did you notice her going lame?
No. Well, there's not much space.
When did she start the salivating?
She were dribbling a bit yesterday.
I see.
I've got hard news for you, Bob,
about the hardest a farmer has to bear.
It's foot-and-mouth disease.
Oh, no, Mr Farnon, don't say that.
Not foot-and-mouth.
I'm afraid so. There's no doubt.
All the symptoms are there.
See the blisters between the cleats of her hooves,
the high temperature, the salivation.
Look here.
See the vesicles on her tongue?
Now, then, what stock do you carry here?
Twenty sheep, lambing's just started.
Six pigs, two sows due to farrow.
-Cattle? -Twelve head.
Not counting her and the calf.
You know what this means, don't you?
This is a notifiable disease, I have to tell the authorities.
Your farm's in quarantine from this moment on,
all cloven-footed beasts have to be slaughtered and burned.
I'm a ruined man, Mr Farnon.
Oh, Bob, you'll get some compensation from the government, and...
(SCOFFS) That?
Don't mean a thing, and you know it.
No insurance?
A present from Joan's dad.
It were an act of kindness.
Didn't know what he was sending me.
-She was one of his? -Yeah.
Then he's in trouble, too.
Oh, my God, Mr Farnon! That lovely herd?
Yes.
Where does it end?
More to the point, if we knew where it began, Bob.
Where does it end?
The cattle.
-The cattle, Mr Farnon. -What about them?
I only bought them 10 days ago,
that was before this one come.
Doesn't make a might of difference, Bob. This is infected land.
But they aren't on this land.
Where are they?
They're in a meadow on the other side of Dowson's farm. I rent it from him.
But you've been down milking them?
No, I haven't. They're all youngsters.
-But you've been down among them? -No.
Just as far as the gate to see.
There was no need to go in.
The grazing's still good, and there's water from the beck,
and a bit of wit, they can help themselves to hay.
I was just about finished. I was gonna cart some down today.
-But you haven't? -Not yet.
-Then you mustn't! -Well, they need the extra feed.
You leave that to me. You're in quarantine, too, Bob.
Now, no promises, but I think we might save your cattle.
Poor old Bob.
Yes, James, it's horrid.
-Horrid. -Mmm.
-Well? -Well, I've hosed down the car in the yard,
smothered your tyres with carbolic.
Now, can I do the same for you, brother?
Thank you. Mrs Hall is disinfecting my clothes,
I've disinfected my body, and take that silly grin off your face.
This is not a laughing matter!
Sorry. No, of course it's not.
What about your gumboots?
On the back doorstep, disinfected, too.
Good man.
Get yourself a drink if you want some.
-What are the chances, Siegfried? -Of it not spreading?
-Yes. -Nil actually.
Well, he brought that cow and calf from the station,
in his cart to the farm, put them straight in the stall.
They haven't been out of it since.
James, where's all that college teaching?
He received those beasts before any definite symptoms showed.
That's the most infectious period.
Since then, he's been back and forth on the high road in his horse and cart,
Mrs Rigby's been shopping in Darrowby, visiting her neighbours.
They're all intermediate means of contamination.
-Like your tyres. -Yes, my tyres, James' tyres,
James' clothes, the cattle truck, the loading bay at the Sussex end,
and the unloading here... Why go on?
What about the Sussex end? Any news?
Oh, yes. Yes.
Confirmed and spreading.
That's their concern, poor devils.
Up here, we have one notified case,
and the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries, boys,
are taking prompt action.
What about Bob's heifers?
Can I come to those in a moment, James?
It's just conceivable this thing won't spread beyond Rigby's,
but it's so unlikely that we have to be prepared for the worst.
From today, there's a standstill order imposed on every farm
within a 15-mile radius of the infected premises.
That means no movements of any animals except under special licence.
Which means no market day in Darrowby.
Of course. Or any other market down in the area.
But we carry on as usual?
Well, no, James, not quite.
For the moment, I'm going to put myself into quarantine, too.
I'm not going outside this house.
I'll take morning and evening surgery,
and I'll answer the telephone at all times.
And you two will have to deal with all outside calls.
-What, day and night? -Yes, I'm afraid so.
But surely...
I'm sorry, Tristan. It seems very hard on the pair of you,
but I think it's a sensible precaution.
Honestly, Siegfried, I can't possibly see the reason for...
Well, just listen instead.
If you don't know the Dales farmers by now, you damn well ought to.
I was the one who went to Bob Rigby's, and the word's got around.
Now, if I went out on a perfectly ordinary call,
and by some horrid mischance,
foot-and-mouth subsequently broke out on that farm,
they'd swear I was the carrier.
Absolute nonsense, of course, but I'm not going to risk having it said.
Of course, if the outbreak extends, let alone runs wild,
then I'll end my self-imposed purdah.
Oh, that's comforting.
Come on, Tris, Siegfried's right.
And if there isn't an epidemic,
well, quarantine only lasts a month. It won't kill us.
All right, I haven't spoken.
Bob's heifers?
Ah, yes, I mentioned them to Judson
when I talked to him at the Ministry.
Took a bit of persuading, but they're not for the chopper yet.
Dowson's going to love that. They're right next door to him.
He doesn't know it yet,
but he's going to play good neighbour to Bob Rigby.
-James? -Hmm?
I want you to go and see him.
I won't have it, Mr Herriot. Those beasts are a risk.
-The Ministry don't think so. -The Ministry!
Pen-pushing ignoramuses. What do they know?
I've spent a lifetime building up this farm.
I'm in it big now. Think I'm gonna risk everything
because that stupid Bob Rigby brings a sick cow in from the south? (SCOFFS)
He didn't bring it in, Mr Dowson. It was sent to him as a gift.
Yeah, devil I care how he come by it.
How did you come by your Hereford bull, Mr Dowson?
Bought it, didn't I?
Paid good brass for it. £60, young man, £60!
I know. But where did it come from?
One of the finest herds in the country! Chap from Cheshire.
(STUTTERS)
Not quite as far as Sussex, Mr Dowson.
There but for the grace of God?
Well, face the fact. It could just as easily
have been your bull that brought the infection.
Aye. But it wasn't.
(COW MOOS)
Look, Mr Dowson.
You can smell the stench from here.
That's the last of all the stock Bob Rigby had on his farm.
Now, maybe your luck won't hold, either.
And if it doesn't, the men from the Ministry
aren't gonna be lighting a poor little bonfire like that.
Your beasts'll burn for two weeks.
What's that you're saying, young man?
Simply this.
While your luck lasts, and believe me, I hope it does,
you can help a fellow farmer in distress.
Save those heifers for him, Mr Dowson.
It's a risk, Mr Herriot.
There is no more risk from them than from anywhere else.
Good God, man, it's not much to ask!
What are thee asking, then?
To feed them hay every evening.
No need to go in the field, just fork it over the fence.
Is that all?
Yes, and I promise you this.
I'll come up every morning to take a look at them,
first sign of a symptom, they'll be slaughtered the very same day.
Well, I've nothing against young Rigby. He's a good lad.
I'm right sorry for what's happened to him.
All right, Mr Herriot, I'll do what thee asks.
(COW MOOING)
Oh, Penny, you're proving quite a problem, aren't you?
I'm so sorry to give you all this bother.
Now, dear Mrs Flaxton, that's exactly what we're here for.
But I didn't want to bother you.
I've tried and tried to get hold of your brother.
-Oh, really? -Oh, well, I knew he's your expert on domestic pets,
and he was very kind and concerned when I was last here,
begged me to call him day or night if I was the least bit anxious.
-Yes, I can well imagine. -(PENNY WHINING)
That's my brother Tristan all over.
Well, the only trouble is, I simply haven't been able to get hold of him.
Now, well, you see, it's this foot-and-mouth scare.
There've been no further cases, luckily, but it has kept us very busy.
Yes, I do understand.
Now, then, there's nothing wrong with the treatment,
-but she's not responding. -Not at all.
Your brother was so confident.
Yes.
-Is she still eating properly? -Not any more.
Whatever she does eat goes straight through her.
She's got a terrific thirst.
Always at her water bowl, and then she brings it back.
Yeah, well, you see, that's because of the inflammation of her insides.
It really does give them this raging desire for water,
and of course, the more she drinks, the more she vomits.
It is, I'm afraid, very weakening.
She's not going to die?
You love her very much, don't you?
Mike and I adore her.
Don't worry, we'll find a way to pull her through.
Just the weakening worries me a little bit.
See, there's no question that it's not gastroenteritis,
but I don't quite understand why she's not responding.
But we'll find a way.
Now, for a start, I want you to put her on a very light diet.
-Arrowroot and boiled milk. -Yes.
And I think I'm going to change the medication
just because she is weak.
(SIGHING) Day calls, night calls.
Six hours sleep in 24 if I'm lucky.
Tell you, James, I'm completely worn out.
There ought to be a society for the prevention of cruelty to vets.
Yes. Well, I can't pretend I'm feeling exactly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed myself.
Well, it's the longest month I ever remember.
-And there are still two weeks to run, Tris. -Oh, don't rub it in.
I shan't last the course, not at this rate. That's for sure.
Yes, you will. We both will.
It is astonishing, though, isn't it?
Not another case since Rigby's.
-(KNOCKS ON TABLE) Touch wood. -(YAWNING)
-Still, it does show one thing. -What?
Well, just how much of the workload Siegfried carries when he's on the scene.
"When he's on the scene"?
I suppose you realise he's having a comfortable holiday at our expense.
Rubbish!
No, he gave his reasons, Tris,
and I think, in the circumstances, it was the right decision.
-Now, do you? -Mmm.
All that nonsense about putting himself into quarantine.
Two surgeries, and answering the telephone.
That is the sum total of his daily effort
while we drive ourselves towards an early grave.
What does he do the rest of the time? Slops around in his slippers.
Puts his feet up, by the fire,
listens to the wireless and reads.
Dorothy Sayers.
-You're getting worked up! -You bet I am.
If you want to know, I've been quietly on the boil these last couple of days.
Well, you're an idiot. Cool off!
I'm doing so, visibly, dear boy.
You could've fooled me.
You see, James, I've always nourished a strong sense of poetic justice.
Now, with any luck at all, I've now put a spoke in Siegfried's wheel.
No, not a spoke. Wrong metaphor.
It's more subtle than that.
More like setting a bowl of cool, clear water
just beyond the reach of a man dying of thirst.
Oh, that's very subtle. Go on.
It was just by chance, really. I bumped into Sue Beresford this morning.
Gorgeous girl, always been a bit potty about my brother.
I never could understand why. Oh, well, that's women for you.
-(LAUGHS) -Anyway, she asked after him.
I was just about to tell her when I had one of those inspired mental flashes.
-Ah! -So, instead,
I said he was very down in the dumps.
Hinted at a broken love affair,
expressed my brotherly concern,
suggested it would be an act of pure Christian charity
if she invited him to her place for a drink.
Well, naturally, I made her swear not to mention my name.
-Naturally. -Well, she jumped at it, James! Simply jumped at it!
-So? -Well, there's nothing like improving on a good idea,
so I rang up two other beauties he's always fancied.
-Bunty Farquhar and Jennifer Selby! -Oh!
I spun them the same yarn, they swallowed it, hook, line and sinker.
I'm sorry, Tris, I'm not quite with you.
Where does this get you your sense of poetic justice?
Do you know, James, you can be a bit dense at times.
Yes.
I mean, it's obvious, isn't it?
Suddenly, out of the blue, he receives three tantalising invitations
which his self-imposed purdah makes it impossible for him to accept!
I mean, as far as he is concerned,
one could hardly devise a more exquisite form of torture.
I tell you, James, there's going to be a gnashing of teeth
and a bashing of knuckles tonight at Skeldale House.
(BOTH CHUCKLE)
-Come on, let's get back. -What's the rush?
First of all, I'm going to stew my aching bones
in the hottest, deepest bath in Darrowby,
then, James, I'm going to sit back and watch the frenzy grow.
You don't know your brother as well as I do.
Mmm.
(BOTH CHUCKLING)
-Hello. -Oh, hello, darling. You're back.
-Mmm, how lovely. Hard day? -Not too bad.
-No, I can smell the beer. -Oh.
JAMES: Tris and I had a pint at the Dover.
Mmm-hmm.
Hello, Siegfried. All well?
Better than that, James, your wife is an angel of mercy.
We spent the day doing the accounts and going through the figures.
Good Lord.
No joking. When I think of the tyranny we suffered
at the hands of that abominable woman... What was her name?
-Harbottle. -Harbottle!
Never to be forgotten!
Whereas Helen... Words fail me.
Oh, he's talking absolute rubbish.
I never really thought that I'd actually enjoy totting up figures,
and do you know what's more, James, we're making a handsome profit.
Which is why, at my expense, and regardless of cost,
you will take this sweet young girl out to dinner tonight, and that's an order.
-Oh. -Oh, Siegfried, that's very kind of you,
but if the poor old thing is too whacked...
What poor old thing? I certainly am not too whacked.
-You sure that's all right? -Why shouldn't it be?
That's marvellous, Siegfried. Thanks most awfully.
Don't thank me, thank your wife.
And stop being so conscientious, just for once.
Tristan can very well hold the fort.
-Tristan? -(DOOR OPENS)
You may not have noticed, but...
All right, who pinched all the hot water?
I'm afraid I did.
What do you want a bath for?
Why are you dressed like that?
Well, it's been one of those exceptional days.
You know, I'm not by nature recluse.
I confess I've found this last fortnight increasingly irksome,
but it turns out, I'm not a forgotten man.
The invitations have been pouring in, and even at this moment,
and I am off to cocktails at Broughton Manor.
-But you can't. -Now, why do you say that?
You're in quarantine.
Oh, my poor, dear child.
Sue Beresford has not got cloven hooves, not within the meaning of the act,
so I shan't be giving her foot-and-mouth.
I must dash. Goodbye, my dear. Make sure he gives you
-a lovely dinner. So long, James. -Thank you.
-Who's taking surgery? JAMES: Bye-bye, Siegfried.
-You are, Tristan. -Me?
Well, you're our expert on domestic pets, are you not?
(SPEAKING FRENCH)
HELEN: (LAUGHING) Ooh-ooh.
(WHISTLING)
Morning, James.
Why the sad and pensive air?
What? I'm worried, James, very worried.
-Our luck's held out so far. -No, I don't refer to the pestilence.
I mean that nice little bitch of Mrs Flaxton's.
-Penny the poodle? -Yeah.
Well, she's not still sick, is she?
I simply don't understand it.
I mean, you kicked off with the classic treatment for gastroenteritis.
When that didn't work, Tristan
changed the medication. Accidentally, correctly as it happened.
No improvement. At that point, I took over.
James, I've now exhausted our entire repertoire of available drugs.
That wretched little creature has been subjected to
powdered ipecacuanha and opium,
sodium salicylate and tincture of camphor.
I've even tried decoctions of haematoxylin
and infusions of caryophyllum.
I tell you, I'm beginning to feel like a third-rate witch doctor.
What, no improvement?
Worse. She's weak, getting weaker.
I've just been to see her. She's hardly fit to come to the surgery.
It's a simple case of gastroenteritis.
What's gone wrong? What is it we don't know?
(DOORBELL RINGING)
(DOGS BARKING)
-Have you got to go out? -I expect so.
You go back to sleep, darling.
(DOGS CONTINUE BARKING)
Quiet, dogs, you'll wake up the whole house! Quiet!
(DOGS CONTINUE BARKING)
Hello.
-We're so sorry to... -Come in, come in.
So sorry to bother you at this time of night, Mr Herriot.
It's Penny. She's really bad.
Well, bring her into the surgery. I'll take a look at her.
(PENNY WHINING)
I know it's late, Mr Herriot, but there doesn't seem to be anything we can do for her.
That's all right. I'm on duty tonight, anyway. There we are, Penny.
She's really suffering now.
Just lies in her basket crying all the time.
Mmm.
-There's one thing, Mr Herriot. -Mmm-hmm.
We both agree that she...
Are you prepared to put her down?
It really would be the kindest thing.
Yes, I suppose it would.
But it shouldn't be. I mean, it really shouldn't be.
She's just two years old, you say?
-Next month. -Hmm.
Mrs Flaxton, I'm going to put Penny to sleep.
-(SOBBING) -No, no, not the way you think.
-I don't quite understand. -I simply want to anaesthetise her.
What possible good will that do?
Well, I can't be certain it'll do any good at all. It's just an idea I've got.
But if she has a rest from this continual drinking and vomiting, and straining,
it may give nature a chance.
Well, don't you think she's been through enough already?
Yes, I do. Of course, she has, but this won't cause her any more distress.
She won't know a thing about it, I promise.
Look, I know this is a last resort,
but I'd be very grateful if you'd let me try, please.
-(PENNY WHINING) -All right. Go ahead.
Thanks.
-But this will be the last, won't it? -Yes, it will.
What are you giving her?
Nembutal, just a small shot.
She'll sleep till late afternoon,
and then I'll come back and give her another dose, or Mr Farnon will.
If I can't make it, I'll tell him what I'm trying.
But I want to keep her sedated for 48 hours.
(PENNY WHINING)
-(DOOR OPENS) -There you go, Poppy. There's a good dog.
-Hello, James. -Hello, Siegfried.
-How went the day? -Oh, pretty easily.
-A few simple cases, one case of mastitis. -Uh-huh.
Things seem to be slacking off a bit.
Good. Excellent.
-Did you have a look at Bob Rigby's heifers? -I do every day.
Clean as a whistle.
That's very satisfactory.
-Er, Siegfried... -Yes.
...did my eyes deceive me?
Is there or is there not a crate of champagne in the hall?
They did not, and there is.
Throwing a party?
Oh, no, no, no. Not quite yet, James.
But I have a sudden warm conviction
that a miracle is going to happen.
There isn't going to be an outbreak of foot-and-mouth.
The moment the Min of Ag gives us the all-clear, we celebrate.
So...
-Be prepared. -How perfectly splendid.
On the other hand, isn't it tempting providence a bit?
-Yes, of course it is, outrageously. -(CHUCKLES)
I had that well in mind.
If the thing flares up at the last moment, we don't celebrate...
-We get drunk instead. -(CHUCKLES)
-Any complaints? -None.
Cheers.
That brings me, James, to another small miracle.
Mmm?
Oh, my hat, you don't... Not Penny the poodle?
Absolutely. I was there when she woke up. Nice 48-hour nap.
Go on.
She's very weak, of course, wobbly on her legs,
but she didn't make a beeline for the water bowl,
she tottered out into the garden, did a neat little job,
and then she watered the flowerbed for about half an hour.
-That's fantastic. -Isn't it?
I'll tell you, I felt quite a fraud
getting all those hugs and kisses from Mrs Flaxton.
-They were yours by rights, James. -Don't worry about that!
-Is Penny really on the mend? -I'm sure she is.
-I'm equally sure that you've really... -(PHONE RINGING)
-No, no, Tris'll get it. Go on. -...hit something, James.
I think we need a few more cases to satisfy the profession,
but after that, you've got to write a paper
about the use of sedation as an adjunct
to the ordinary treatment of certain animal ailments for our learned journal.
-Well... -No, I really mean it, James.
(DOGS PANTING)
-Well, what is it? -It's Dowson.
Was he burning up the line.
-SIEGFRIED: What's wrong? -His prize bull's got it, that's what.
Do I have to spell it out? Foot-and-mouth disease.
(BELLOWING)
I should never have listened to thee in the first place.
All that soft soap about helping Bob Rigby.
Nowt but a bloody tinker.
I know what tha's done!
Brought his filthy disease onto my healthy land and my beasts.
Well, tha's ruined a life's work.
I'm a hard man to cross, Mr Herriot,
as you'll find out to your cost.
It weren't impotence,
that were culpable negligence, that's what it were!
Ignorance and culpable negligence!
Well, I'll sue, never fear. I'll take thee to court,
the highest court in the land if necessary!
And I'll take thee and thy blasted practice for every penny tha's got!
And I'll have thee struck off for good measure!
Walk him round the byre again, will you?
All right, bring him back.
Right, hold his head up, will you.
Have another look at that tongue.
(BULL GROWLS)
JAMES: Mr Dowson.
Now, you listen to me.
Your anxiety is quite natural,
but if you ever speak to me like that again,
I will almost certainly punch you hard on the nose.
Then you can have the satisfaction of taking me to court for assault.
But get this clear.
I will not have my professional competence questioned
by an incompetent farmer.
-What the hell are... -Shut up and listen.
That bull isn't lame.
There are no vesicles between the cleats, there are no vesicles on the tongue.
The tongue is swollen and painful,
he's salivating, and has a fairly high temperature.
Well, young man?
Well, so would you be, running a temperature, salivating,
and your tongue would be swollen and painful
if you had three inches of rusty wire sticking into the bottom of it.
-Are you saying... -It is not foot-and-mouth, Mr Dowson.
It's just a simple infection
caused by this.
All right.
You are no more an incompetent farmer than I am a negligent vet.
You're a very good farmer.
But I'll lay you any odds you like
that that piece of wire came from a badly cut bale of hay.
If you buy prize bulls, it's worth watching the fodder.
(SIGHS)
Tha's right, young man.
I'm sorry for what I said.
Shh, don't bite it.
That should do you, old chap.
How old are they, Mr Skipton?
You're the vet. You tell me.
Well, they're very old.
I can see that from their teeth.
But I'd only be guessing.
Well, the mare's about, uh, 30.
And the gelding's a year or two younger.
She's had 15 grand foals.
Neither of them ailed owt, except a bit of teeth trouble now.
JAMES: When did they last do any work?
SKIPTON: About 12 year ago, I reckon.
JAMES: You've kept them down here all that time?
Aye, just laking about down here, retired like.
It's sheltered in winter and grand grazing in summer.
Oh, they've earned it, you know.
They were two slaves when I were a slave meself.
And do you come and see them very often?
Every day God sends, Mr Herriot.
Rain, blow or snow, I never miss it.
But it's two miles to your house, Mr Skipton.
They're old friends, aren't they?
Anyway, everything's under control.
Mrs Hall's been having a field day in the kitchen.
Honestly, darling, she is a wonderful woman.
The only trouble is, she does get carried away.
There's gonna be enough to feed a regiment.
But not army cooking, strictly Yorkshire cordon bleu.
You haven't been listening to a word I've said.
-James. -What?
-Are you with me? -Sorry, love, I was thinking.
-What about? -John Skipton.
-What about him? -Those two ancient horses.
Skipton started life as a farm labourer.
Never married, drove himself hard all his life, made money.
You'd never think it to look at him.
He's one of the biggest landowners in the Dales
and he walks four miles every day to see those horses, Helen.
Four miles!
That's been going on for 12 years.
I don't know another farmer in the Dales
who wouldn't have sold them to the knackers yard
just as soon as their usefulness expired, but not Skipton.
He's given them an ease and comfort in their old age
that he's never bothered to give himself.
But why, darling? You tell me that.
It's not difficult, you old silly.
He loves them, that's why.
(SCOFFS)
Right, Mrs Hall, do this. We can let them in soon
and then we can get the baked potatoes.
SIEGFRIED: Are we allowed in yet?
Yes, you can come in now, we're ready for you!
By Jove!
What a sight for sore eyes!
Mrs Hall, I have always held you in the very highest regard
but what can I say now, you're a true artist. A queen of the cuisine.
Get along with you, Mr Farnon.
I'd never have managed without Mrs Herriot's help.
-Ah. -She's as fine a cook as I am.
There's nothing for it. I'll have to kiss you both.
That's great work, darling. Bravo, Mrs Hall.
I myself am beyond empty rhetoric. Merely empty bellied.
-No, you don't, brother! -Brother.
Contain your gluttony. I have other plans.
Now, before our guests arrive,
we're going to have a little private ceremony of our own.
Please note, brother dear, that when opening a bottle of champagne
I do not follow the vulgar habit of bombing the ceiling
-with the cork. -(POPS SOFTLY)
Oh! Well done! (CHUCKLES)
Spilt a bit there. Never mind.
It seems to me that some sort of toast is appropriate at this moment.
Give me your advice. To what or to whom shall we drink?
-Well, ourselves, of course. -Yes.
Ourselves, why not?
After all, where in all Darrowby could one possibly hope to encounter...
-Come along, Mrs Hall. -Oh.
...such a combination of beauty...
JAMES: Hear, hear.
Ah, ah.
-Thank you, Siegfried. -Ah.
-...industry... -Ah, thank you.
...and wit?
(CHUCKLING)
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the toast.
-Ourselves! -ALL: Ourselves.
-(DOORBELL RINGS) -Someone's a bit early.
-I'll go, Mrs Herriot. -Oh, thank you, Mrs Hall.
Who do you suppose...
-Penny and the Flaxtons. -HELEN: Could be.
They live just around the corner.
Or my Rosebud.
Your Rosebud? Tris!
From the hospital. Absolute little charmer.
It's Sue Beresford.
And how do you know?
Girl of handsome appetite, James. I warned her of this feast.
Mark my words. Sue Beresford.
-Mr Farnon, sir. -Yes, Mrs Hall. What is it?
-Or who is it? -Jess Rowbotham, sir.
Jess Rowbotham? What on earth does he want?
Oh, Mr Farnon, I'm that sorry.
He says could someone come at once, it's...
It's a misplaced calf bed.
-Oh! -Oh, no.
Not now, it can't be.
Oh. How unfair!
Life, my dear Helen, is beastly unfair
but we among ourselves are not.
Just now and then.
Gentlemen,
the short match wins the job.
Tristan?
James.
As Helen remarked only a moment ago, beastly unfair on one of us.
Well, at least let's drink a glass of champagne first.
-Hear, hear. -Come, Mrs Hall.
Bring your glass. Bring your glasses.
Come on.
(ALL SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY)