Hello, James. Hello, Paul. Let me get you a drink.
Oh, thanks. A pint, please.
-Splendid. -Thank you.
Could I trouble you, Moira...
Hello, Theo! Hello!
That's a good dog! How are you? Mmm?
Good dog, aren't you?
Oh, thank you. Thanks very much.
-Cheers, Paul. -Good luck, old sport.
Mmm, One thing. I think he's been looking a bit thin lately.
-What, Theo? -Mmm.
-Do you think he's got worms? -Oh, it's always possible, yes.
Theo, come up. There we are.
Ooh. That's all right. It's all right.
-Yeah, you're right, he has lost some weight, hasn't he? -Hmm.
-Have you noticed him passing any worms? -No, I haven't, actually.
Well, no sort of white segments around the rear?
-No, but, umm, I haven't looked all that closely. -(CHUCKLES)
Well, I'll worm him anyway just in case. I'll bring some tablets in tomorrow night.
You will be here?
I think that's highly probable.
Well, well, that's really rather nice.
"Lieutenant Colonel R W Royston,
"DSO MC and the officers of the Duke of York Dragoon Guards
"requests the pleasure of Mr Siegfried Farnon's company at a guest night
"on Friday the 8th..." (MUMBLES)
Hmm... Unexpected, too. I've only bumped into him a couple of times.
-Well, you've obviously made a strong impression, Siegfried. -I suppose I must have done!
I've got one, too.
-Have you? -Why not? I, too, have my contacts.
Not that chinless wonder I saw you with the other day outside the Drover's Arms?
Bertie can't help his appearance.
It's simply due to upper class inbreeding.
Quite a decent bloke, really. Said he was going to ask me.
Well, that rather takes the gilt off the gingerbread.
However, if you're bent on going,
-at least I shall be there to see you behave yourself. -Oh, thank you.
-And talking of the upper classes, James... -Were we?
I think it's time for you to spread your wings.
You have the common touch to perfection.
You're widely respected by the people of the Dales, in itself an achievement,
but now the moment has come for you to experience a more rarefied atmosphere.
Siegfried, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about.
The aristocracy, James.
Now, I've regarded them rather selfishly, perhaps, as my particular preserve,
but this morning I'm sending you on a job I'd usually keep for myself.
-Oh, what's that? -Tuberculin testing.
Oh, splendid! Thank you.
With a difference.
William George Henry Augustus, 11th Marquis of Hulton will be awaiting you at 9.30.
-JAMES: Excuse me? -Yes?
Can you tell me where I'd find Lord Hulton, please?
I can, as a matter of fact. What do you want?
I'm here for the tuberculin testing.
Oh, my dear chap, I am so sorry. You must be Herriot.
-Mmm-hmm. -Farnon did ring me.
On second thoughts, I wouldn't advise that. I'm Hulton. Delighted to meet you.
I've heard a lot about you from our mutual friend.
Well, we're almost ready for you,
but not quite, I'm afraid. I know I told him 9:30.
That's all right.
Blasted cattle. Must be psychic, they seemed to know you were coming,
just went careering off for the hell of it. -Please don't worry about it.
Ah, it's very good of you to say so. Come and have a look at this.
(MEN SPURRING ON CATTLE)
Bit of a fiasco last time Farnon was here. I don't want a repetition,
so I rigged up this crush and we drive the cattle in here,
-and we've really got them. It's not a bad ways, eh? -No, it's excellent.
Oh, damn it. What are Charlie and the lads up to?
(DOG SQUEALS)
Oh, it's all right, sir. They're bringing them in now.
Ah, thank the Lord for that. I hate to keep you chaps waiting,
but a vet's work's never done. Break of day, set of sun.
Half the night, too, I imagine.
It can be like that sometimes. It was a bit of a rush this morning.
Ah, I'm glad to hear. Look, you post yourself there, Herriot,
this side of the crush. I'll go and give the lads a helping hand.
Right.
Bring them up.
Don't let them break, don't let them break.
That's right.
Right. Give us the book, Herriot.
Yes, thanks.
Charlie! Send the first one in!
(MEN SHOUTING)
Stop them! Stop them! Don't let them get away!
I say, it didn't work terribly well, did it?
Well, never mind, old chap. We'll soon have it fixed again.
You can take it from me, Mr Bainbridge.
That last sirloin was nothing to write home about.
No, I am not saying it were bad.
I am saying it could have been better at the price we pay.
Aye.
Well, that's why I'm giving you fair warning.
This next order has to be perfect.
Aye.
And mind you, have it ready when I come in.
Goodbye.
(HUFFS)
Vultures.
I sometimes think they don't know their topside from their scrag end.
Are we in for one of your treats, Mrs Hall?
Well, now, there's some of us as might be, and some of us might not.
Now, what's that supposed to mean?
You be patient, Mr Tristan, you find out.
Now, if you'll excuse me,
I'm busier than some.
H-39.
Right.
Herriot, dear boy, capital morning's work.
Oh, good.
Thank you.
I say, look at that.
Charlie, how did that happen?
She were first one through, when t'crush busted, milord.
It's nowt but a scratch from a nail.
-What do you think, Herriot? -Ah...
No, Charlie's right, sir. It's just a superficial scratch.
She won't come to any harm.
Mmm, good.
Still, I don't want to take any chances. I think we should put something on it.
Maybe we'll need some of that stuff, um, what's it called...
Oh, it's the stuff very good for cut teats and things.
-Pro... what the hell's it called? -Propamidine.
That's right. Propamidine. Have you got any, chap?
I'm afraid I haven't, no. There's plenty at the surgery.
Oh, I'll call by after lunch.
Right, Charlie, keep this one on its own for the moment. Put her inside.
-You and the lads did a grand job. -Thank you, milord.
There's a barrel of beer in the kitchen yard when you've finished that.
Thank you very much, milord.
I could do with a drink myself.
You've got time for a drink, haven't you?
Oh, I'd love one, but I should be getting back now.
My fault, I ought to be able to build a solid crush by now.
Mark you, that new gate made a difference when we fixed it.
Mmm.
Bless my soul. We've got a visitor, Herriot.
What a perfectly splendid-looking creature!
JAMES: What on earth's he doing here?
I can hazard a guess. I certainly know where he's come from.
Army saddle, army headdress... Cavalry barracks.
One officer's charger, minus one officer.
What have you done with him, boy?
More to the point, what's he done to you, eh?
Look at that, sir. And there's blood on the flanks.
By Jove, so it is.
Who the devil would use spurs on a horse like that these days?
Someone who ought to have them used on himself, by the look of it.
Mmm.
-Could you walk him a few paces, sir, please? -Right. Whoa... Steady, boy.
-That's fine, sir, thank you. -All right. Whoa, it's all right.
Well, it's not broken. Nasty injury, though.
What can you do, Herriot?
Well, not much at this moment, sir.
It'll take a lot of time and a lot of stitches to make a good job of it.
-Can you put him up here for the time being, sir? -Yes, of course I can.
Good, thanks.
Well, I'll do some first aid now and I'll get Siegfried to have a look this afternoon.
Aye. Come on, old boy.
Come on.
-You looking for a horse? -Yes, sir, I am.
Well, Lord Hulton's got him down there.
Is he all right, sir?
No, he certainly is not.
What happened?
We was out for morning exercise.
Number 90 is a good horse, sir.
There's nothing wrong with him except for a bit of high spirits.
But Mr Digby, that's the officer,
he's a good rider with a bad temper, if you follow my meaning, sir.
He doesn't like to be bested.
Go on.
I give him his due. He was winning.
Until they tangled with the wire.
I'd like to give your Mr Digby a piece of my mind.
You wouldn't find it easy, sir.
He's on his way to hospital,
with a busted leg and, uh, concussion.
Well, I'm delighted to hear it.
Is he really bad, sir?
Bad enough.
What's your name?
(SIGHS) Trooper Raven, sir.
Well, Trooper Raven, my name's Herriot, I'm a vet.
Now, Number 90 can't possibly be moved.
Lord Hulton is telephoning your commanding officer to tell him so.
Well, there's nothing you can usefully do here.
I'd get back to barracks, if I were you.
Thank you, sir.
I'm fond of old 90.
I look after him, you see.
Will he get better, sir?
Well, give us a chance. We'll do our best.
Thank you.
-Morning. -Better late than never.
-What was it? A thick night? -No, nothing like that.
We both slept like logs. Unfortunately, we slept through the alarm.
-Where's Helen? -Well, she's making herself look beautiful for you.
Anyway, we're not the only ones.
-Where's Siegfried? -Oh, he didn't oversleep, if that's what you mean.
Up with the lark and off in a cloud of dust to Hulton's place.
Oh? What's wrong?
Nothing, really. Just a physician's concern for his patient.
And a good excuse to take the morning off. He's left a note for you.
Yes.
"Pilling's calves. Most urgent."
He didn't happen to say which Mr Pilling, did he?
The only one I know is that loud-mouthed brute who comes into the pub.
What, the one with the super Keeshond?
I didn't know he had any calves.
Still, at least I know where he lives.
Tha knows damn well I keeps no bloody calves!
Well, I didn't think you had, Mr Pilling. But I got this message, you see.
-Just a simple mistake. -Like hell, it is!
-Good Lord, is that your Keeshond? -What about him?
Well, he's got a skin condition, Mr Pilling. Can I have a look?
Oh, so that's it.
News travels brisk in Darrowby.
My Jimbo has a touch of eczema and here you are at my doorstep touting for business!
Times must be hard, Mr Herriot!
No, you can't have a look! He's a valuable animal, is that,
and I'm taking him to somebody as knows something about dogs.
Denneby Broom at Broughton.
Out of me way, or I'll be missing bus. Come on, Jimbo.
(TELEPHONE RINGS)
All right, all right, all right, all right.
Hello, Darrowby 85. Oh, James.
What, Pillings? Who said anything about Pilling?
James, "Billings"!
I wrote it very carefully.
Well, of course I didn't put the address.
Everyone knows there's only one Billings, Long End Farm.
Yeah, well, get there as quickly as you can, will you?
He's an excellent chap and he sounded anxious.
Bye.
I'm awfully sorry about the delay getting here, Mr Billings.
Wouldn't have made no odds, Mr Herriot.
They have been dead an hour ago.
When did you first notice anything was wrong?
Coats were a bit starey yesterday morning
and he didn't take grub in the evening.
But it was only this morning they were took really bad.
And that's when I phoned Mr Farnon.
-What the hell is it, Mr Herriot? -Oh, I wish I knew.
From what you've described, I'm inclined to think they've eaten some
irritant, corrosive poison.
Nay, it's not possible, they're just month-old babes.
They've never been outside of here.
My lads keep this place as clean as a new pin.
You won't find any old tins of paint or sheep dip lying around,
like some places I can mention.
Oh, I know. And you feed every calf yourself?
I do that. That's what I've always said, Mr Herriot.
Feeding calves is the most important thing in stock rearing.
You get 'em through the first five weeks and you're halfway there.
Nothing like this has ever bothered us before though.
What's to do then, eh?
Well, I'll take these two for post-mortem,
and then send the kidneys to the labs for lead estimation.
Well, we may find something.
But watch the others, Mr Billings.
The slightest sign of starey coat, I want to know immediately.
-All right, I'll do that. -Thank you.
You're a brick, Helen. I should have married you myself.
Hmm. Well, you were too slow off the mark.
Story of my life, isn't it? How's it going?
Well, it's not exactly invisible mending.
But it's only a small burn, I don't think anyone will notice.
-Hello. -Hello.
What have we here?
Oh, Helen's just looking over my dinner jacket and things.
I don't want to let the side down tonight.
Tonight?
Oh, yes! Our military engagement.
When did you last wear this?
New Year's Eve party, I think. Why?
Lipstick on the lapel... Tsk. Tsk.
Signs of something less attractive lower down.
I suppose it never occurred to you
to let the cleaners have this garment after you'd used it.
Oh, don't worry, Siegfried. By the time I've sponged and pressed it,
Tristan will look like a king.
Yes, I'm sure he will, but he shouldn't
take your good nature for granted.
Great Scotland Yard! What's this?
What on earth do you think it is? It's a bow tie.
-It's a made-up bow tie. -Any fool could see that. They're jolly useful things.
Worn by waiters in seedy Italian restaurants.
No brother of mine will be seen dead in such an article.
Is that absolutely clear?
I don't know what you're talking about, Siegfried,
you've seen me in it plenty of times before.
And I was happily unaware of the fact. Never again.
In sartorial matters you will be guided by me.
Seigfried, that's my property!
That was your property.
Here is a florin. Ah, no, I see it's half a crown.
You will go straight out and buy yourself a double-ended silk evening dress tie.
I don't know how to tie the beastly things.
You'll find instructions in the packet. You can practise in the looking glass.
If all else fails, I myself will instruct you in this minor art form.
Have I said something amusing?
Don't ever change, will you, Seigfried? Stay as you are, always.
Excuse me, Helen. (LAUGHING)
Oh! Sorry, James.
-Hello, darling. -Hello, James. You don't look too happy.
-No, I'm not. -(TELEPHONE RINGS)
-Those two calves... -Tristan!
-Billing's calves. -Yeah?
Oh, you told me, the post-mortem showed non-specific gastroenteritis.
-I've just had the lab test on the kidneys. -And?
-Negative. -Yes, I see, that is serious.
-Still, no more cases, are there? -No.
James, it's Mr Billings. Another calf.
-Dear Lord, I shouldn't have spoken. -I'm sorry darling.
-All right, Tris, tell him I'll come out straightaway. -Right.
James, I know it's your case, old chap, and two heads aren't necessarily better than one,
but when I see that anxious frown...
If you feel you could use another opinion...
Yes, I could, Siegfried, thanks. Thank you.
-All right. -See you later.
Well, lungs are clean,
temperature's normal, but there's a great deal of abdominal pain.
Well, nobody has more respect than I have
for the way you and your sons run this farm, Mr Billings.
Both Mr Herriot and I agree
there's nothing in these pens, at least nothing obvious,
that could be causing the trouble.
But I'm 100% with my partner,
as sure as God made little green apples,
that calf is suffering from some kind of irritant poison.
Nay, it's not possible, Mr Farnon.
-What do you feed them on? -Milk and a few nuts.
-I always make sure the buckets are scoured clean. -Yes, I'm sure you do.
-What nuts? -They're out here.
These.
-Where do you get them from? -Local mill.
They're Rider's best. You can't fault them, surely.
No, first class. First class.
-What're you giving him, James? -Magnesium and calcium.
Uh-huh. He'll need another in the morning.
Well, we've got a mystery here, Mr Billings. I don't like mysteries.
We'll get to the bottom of it in the end.
Happen they'll be all dead before you do.
Now then,
here you are, my dear.
Thank you.
-James. -What? Oh! Oh, splendid.
That's rather a hefty one, isn't it, Siegfried?
Well, it was prompted, James, by a slight feeling of guilt
at leaving you and Helen all alone here
while Tristan and I go off to dine and guzzle at the Army's expense.
Oh, no!
-Your idea, brother. -That was not my idea.
There were simple instructions with simple diagrams!
There's nothing simple about them
when you're doing them back-to-front in the looking glass.
Come here, come here, come here.
Back towards me.
Needs to be perfectly...
-The pudding'll be ready in an hour, Mrs Herriot. -Thank you.
I'm just off to me sister's. Now, uh...
There you are, there's nothing to it!
Hello, Mrs Hall! Is that one of my bottles?
Well, as you and Mr Tristan were off gallivanting,
I took the liberty.
Absolutely right. May I see?
But it's the Haut-Brion '28.
Aye, Mr Farnon. You always said it were the best.
-For very special occasions. -Well, so this is!
Mr and Mrs Herriot on their own for once.
Well, yes. I quite appreciate that, but it's hardly the right accompaniment for
sardines on toast, or whatever.
Who said anything about sardines on toast?
No, they didn't, did they? Did you say something about pudding, Mrs Hall?
I did.
Not one of your steak and kidney puddings?
Aye, Mr Farnon.
Helen, did you know about this?
Mrs Hall suggested it, and as James and I love it, well, we thought...
But Mrs Hall's steak and kidney puddings are rare splendours,
highlights of the year, I'd...
Not dream of foregoing and now I have no choice.
Well, I won't accuse you of deliberate cruelty, Mrs Hall,
but any pleasures the evening might have had in store for me are now woefully curtailed.
Well,
things being as they are I can only applaud your choice.
It would have been mine.
James, uncork it with care.
And let it breathe.
And decant it, I beg you,
over a candle flame.
It will most perfectly complement the pudding.
-Oh! -(BOTH LAUGHING)
What an absolutely blissful evening.
I can still hardly move, darling.
Oh, poor old Siegfried. He really did miss out, didn't he?
I love them dearly,
but it wouldn't have been the same if they'd been here.
No!
Anyway, I'm sure they're past the point of no regrets by now.
We really are going to have a couple of very sore heads to cope with tomorrow.
Oh, never mind tomorrow!
-We've still got now. -Hmm, that's true.
Yes, that's very true. Why don't we, um...
Why don't we improve the shining hour?
-How? -Well, I thought perhaps... (WHISPERING)
You clever old dog!
-(TELEPHONE RINGS) -Oh!
Thank you, darling.
Darrowby 8... Yes, Herriot speaking.
Oh, hello, sir.
No, that's all right. What...
Oh, I see.
Yes, yes, I see.
A great long red thing hanging from her bottom.
Well, I can guess.
No, sir, it's not good at all, I'm afraid.
No. Well, I'll come right over.
No, please don't worry, sir, it's perfectly all right. That's what we're here for.
All right, sir. Goodbye.
-Who was that, darling? -(SIGHS)
Lord Hulton's got a prolapsed uterus.
Well, one of his sows has.
-Oh, my poor darling. -You can say that again.
I've only handled three of them before.
All ended up as pork pies.
I've been sitting here watching her have 12 nice little piglets.
I was waiting for the 13th
and that's horrible thing popped out. It gave me a nasty turn, I can tell you.
I'm about to tell you, sir, this is very serious.
I'll do what I can, of course, but the chances are she'll have to be slaughtered.
That's most unfortunate. She's one of my best animals.
I'm very attached to the old lady.
I will do my best, I really will.
There's always a chance.
Oh, good man.
Disgrace, absolute damn disgrace!
Prep school stuff!
Don't come in here!
But Siegfried, it wasn't my fault!
I'm not interested in whose fault it is.
We'll discuss that in the morning. Now, please,
go to the kitchen and take off those repellent rags.
-What? -They're gonna be no earthly use to you ever again.
This is my house, and I will not have you scattering feathers in every direction,
putting Mrs Hall in a bad humour for the rest of the week.
Will you please do as I say? Go to the kitchen and put all that in the dustbin.
No, no, no, wait! On second thoughts, don't put it in the dustbin.
Don't come in here!
We might need that as evidence.
Absolutely brand new dress tie! Now, off you go.
(SCOFFS)
(STRAINING)
(SIGHS)
You're nearly all in, dear chap.
Nobody could possibly have done more.
Well, Lucy, poor old girl.
It's a wretched business, but Mr Herriot's done everything he can,
I promise you.
Oh...
I think it's going in.
It can't be!
It is. It really is!
Splendid. Are you sure?
As...
As sure as I can be.
(PANTING)
It's in.
Splendid fellow. Stout fellow! Are you sure?
-It's a bloody miracle. -Oh, stout fellow,
that's splendid! You're a stout fellow! Wonderful!
-Needle and thread. -Needle and thread.
Please, yes, on my bag.
There we are.
-And scissors. -Right, and scissors.
Scissors now, please!
No, that's your pipe.
Hmm? Oh! There you are. Yes.
Ah, Herriot.
-You look like a new man. Did the bath help? -Marvellous, thank you.
-What's all this? -Ah, it's a nice morning,
I thought we'd have breakfast in the barn.
Be near Lucy if she calls us.
Right, you can serve breakfast when you're ready, Fairchild.
Very good, My Lord.
A memorable night. You did something you didn't think was possible.
Ah, that obvious, was it?
Well, you didn't give up. I shall always remember that.
It was your achievement, believe you me, I share your joy in it.
-There's only one thing worries me now. -What's that?
-Those stitches in her vulva. -Oh, they're all right. Just a precaution.
You can nick them out in a couple of days.
But she'll have a wound. I don't want the old lady to have a sore bottom.
It crossed my mind we might use some of that stuff, pro...
Oh, it's no use. What is it?
-Propamidine. -It worked miracles with those spur wounds.
Spur wounds? Oh, yes, of course, the charger. Well, how is he?
Oh, superb. Got him out of the sling.
Standing on all four feet. We'll soon have the stitches out.
Do you know, I think Farnon must be one of the best horse doctors in the business.
Yes, I think he is.
Yeah. I'll tell you something.
I love all animals, but I love horses best.
I was brought up with them. Noble creatures.
The trouble is I've taken a fancy to that one. There's good blood there.
Splendid quarters, shoulders.
-Wish I could keep him. -Well, isn't that possible?
Ah, it's difficult. War department property.
Ah, breakfast at last!
Now, Herriot, would you like to start with a kipper?
-Oh, yes, please. -I recommend the set. They came from Loch Fyne.
We got a box off the train yesterday. Thank you, Fairchild.
-Give Mr Herriot some coffee, will you? -Thanks.
As far as I can make out, it's a practical joke,
practised on unpopular brother officers.
-You take two thunder flashes. -Thunder flashes?
Yes, they're a kind of powerful firework
used by the Army to simulate grenades in training.
And you stuff one in the fellow's feather pillow,
and the other half submerged in a strategically-placed bucket of whitewash,
light the blue touch paper and retire with alacrity.
I think that's an awful thing to do.
(LAUGHING) Yes, it's pretty antisocial, I must confess.
-You can't possibly blame poor old Tris! -Thank you, Helen.
To be perfectly fair, I can't. All the same...
All the same what?
Well, in some extraordinary way just that you do seem to court disaster.
I mean, only you, looking for the men's lavatory could possibly have stumbled
by mistake into that officer's bedroom at the precise moment of the explosion.
Have you examined the remnants?
Yes, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do this time.
It's not even the feathers and the whitewash.
They might clean, but the jacket and trousers are both very badly scorched.
I'm surprised poor Tris wasn't more badly hurt himself.
I thought I was dead for a moment.
Two tremendous bangs, flames, smoke,
showers of whitewash and clouds of falling feathers.
It wasn't a bit funny, I can tell you.
Well, I think it's a dreadful thing to do. Can't you complain?
It's a bit tricky, having been guests. Still, I would like to.
Hasn't James telephoned yet?
No, I think he's probably gone straight form Lord Hulton's to Mr Stokill to stitch a teat.
Oh, he'll be absolutely exhausted, won't he?
Tristan, you can save him one job if you go to Billings' farm
and give that calf its injections straightaway.
Right, I'll go over.
-And if it's any worse, telephone me at once. -Right.
Well, this is the third time, Mr Stokill.
I'm afraid it's going to keep on happening.
Aye, it's just the shape she is.
That great udder, there's nowhere to put it
when she lies down without the other cows standing on it!
By gow, you wouldn't think another cow could make such a mess.
Well, cows' hooves are sharp, like a knife coming down.
(CHUCKLES) I don't reckon t'old lass owes me anything.
Twelve years and I wouldn't like to count how many
thousands of gallons she's turned out.
And she's still leaving four a day.
I don't much like the idea of sending her to market.
But I reckon there's nowt else for it now.
It does seem a pity. But isn't your old stable empty?
Aye. So it is, aye.
Well, why don't you put her in there?
She'd be safe, she'd feed three calves, easily.
By gow, you're right, Mr Herriot. She'll pay her way!
And nobody to stand on her poor old tits!
I tell the straight, that Herriot was round at my place,
bold as brass, touting for business!
Well, he's a vet'nary, ain't he?
There's vet'naries and vet'naries, and this one's a dead loss.
I could tell tales about him!
What sort of tales, sir?
There's many of time folks have brought dogs to me he's made a mess of.
Tha knows all about dogs, don't tha, Seth?
There's not a lot I don't know, but if I'm beat I go to him who does know.
And not Herriot, that's for sure, no.
I slips over to Broughton and consults with Denneby Broom.
He's a big friend of mine.
Is that where you been with Jimbo?
Aye, I took him over there just for a second opinion, like.
Seems like you've made a right mess of him between you.
That's your natural ignorance! Sulphur tar's messy. Just the job for his eczema.
What's so wrong wi' Herriot, then?
Nowt! He's just thick in the head.
My Lord, James, you must be absolutely done in, aren't you?
No, not really. When things turn out well against all expectations,
it's surprising how it buoys one up.
Total collapse comes later.
-(CHUCKLES) Yes, alas, all is not going well. -What, Billings' calf?
I sent Tristan up to do the injection,
-but he was dead when he got there. -Oh, damn!
I'm likewise blasted.
This is serious, James. I don't mean the business
but I should hate a good fellow like Billings to lose faith in us.
-I confess I'm absolutely flummoxed. -So am I.
-Hello, chaps! -Hello. Where have you been?
Down The Drover's for a quick half.
You should have been there, James. One Seth Pilling
slandering your good name to all and sundry.
Never mind about him, he's a useless fellow, anyway.
Oh, yes.
Here's a letter for you from the military. Came by special delivery.
A dispatch rider, would you believe it?
Good Lord.
Oh, James! In your absence I'm afraid I rather I took things into my own hands.
I telephoned the Billings and said, um,
we'd both like to be present when they give the calves their last feed at 5:00.
-Is that all right? -Oh, that's fine. Anything special in mind?
Precisely nothing, just a question of leaving no stone unturned, that's all.
Yes, that exactly what it's come to.
Hey, listen to this. From the adjutant.
"The Commanding Officer wishes me to express his personal regret
"for the incident in which you were accidentally involved.
"My officers were in extreme high spirits due to, in my mind at least,
"the uncertainty of being posted overseas at little or no notice.
"Hence there extremism."
Poor fellows.
I can go to the tailor of my choice, order a new dinner jacket,
and render the account to them. What about that?
Well, I call that very civilised, very satisfactory.
You can use my tailors in York, Barton and MacAfee.
They're the only decent people north of Savile Row.
-Come on, James! -Coming.
(COW MOOING)
Aye, that's all they're getting, Mr Farnon. Pure milk.
-What's that? -Eh?
-Oh, it's a bit of muck. I'll have it out. -No, no.
That's not muck.
It's concave!
Like a little cup.
I'll tell you what that is. It's a scab.
Now, where the heck did that come from?
Come along, come on, my beauty. Let's have a look at you.
What you got there, eh?
There's a raw place.
Good grief, that's where it comes from.
Look at that, fits perfectly!
Well, I can understand that. I disbudded the calves a fortnight since.
-May I ask what you used? -Some new stuff. A fella brought it round.
You just paint it on. Well, it's better than t'old caustic stick.
Have you got the bottle?
Aye. It's in the back kitchen. I'll fetch it.
Oh, I love it.
(SCOFFS) Now we know, James!
-Butter of antimony. -Oh, good Lord!
What are you on about?
Well, butter of antimony, Mr Billings,
will burn your horn buds off, all right,
but it also happens to be a deadly poison if it gets in among the foodstuff.
Dang it, Mr Farnon, that's just when it would!
They put their heads down to drink, and the scabs fall in.
Or they dislodge them knocking on the bars of the gates.
Three calves dead! I ought to sue!
I'd save your money, Mr Billings.
I'll see that the sales are stopped and any of these bottles recalled
wherever they've been sold.
But the important thing is to see the rest of your calves are all right, isn't it?
What we've got to do is remove any crusts remaining and scrub the buds clean. Hmm?
And it was there in the bucket of milk that the cow was drinking.
And it was the caustic on the scab that was causing all the trouble.
Sounds like one for the books.
Oh, he's a first rate sleuth, is Siegfried.
Sometimes makes me feel a bit like Dr Watson
trailing in the wake of Sherlock Holmes.
Never underrate yourself, James.
Anyway, you can do a bit of sleuthing on your own for me.
-What, Theo? -Yes.
Did you give him those tablets?
Yes, I don't think it can be the worms, he's getting thinner all the time.
Oh?
Come on, Theo. Come on. Come where I can see you. There's a good dog.
-You're right, he is still losing weight, isn't he? -Hmm.
He's anaemic, too.
You're no poker player, James. Is it serious?
Well, I'm not sure, Paul. It could be.
Anyway, I can't properly examine him here.
Can you bring him in to the surgery tomorrow evening?
-Yes, of course, what time? -About 5:00?
-Yes, all right, old chap. -Good.
I'll see you then, Paul.
-Night, James. -Good night.
-(KNOCK ON DOOR) -Oh, come in, Paul.
-Name of Pilling. -Good heavens, Mrs Pilling?
-Just look at me dog, Mr Herriot. -Oh, I say, poor chap!
Ah, you're surprised, aren't you? No wonder!
He's in a terrible state, isn't he?
-I'm afraid he is. I wouldn't have known him. -No, nobody would!
I think the world of this dog and just look at him.
You know who's responsible, don't you?
-Well... -Ah, yes, you do. It's that husband of mine.
What do you think of my husband, Mr Herriot?
-I don't know him very well... -Well, I knows him, and he's a gawp, a great gawp.
Knows everything and knows nowt!
He's played around with this good dog till he's ruined him!
First he says it's eczema...
-Is it? -No.
-Then he says it's mange. Is it? -No.
-Do you know what it is? -Yes.
Well, will you tell me, please?
It's myxoedema.
-Myx... -Just a moment.
Make absolutely sure.
Yes, that's it. Without a shadow of a doubt.
-What do you call it? -Myxoedema. It's a thyroid deficiency.
You see, there's a gland in his neck that's isn't doing its job properly.
-And that makes his hair fall out? -Yes.
It also accounts for this typical scaliness
and wrinkling of the skin, you see?
Aye, but he's half asleep all the time, how about that?
Ah, another classic symptom.
It makes them very lethargic. No energy at all.
And uh... Can you cure it?
Yes.
Mr Herriot, don't take this wrong, but um... Could you be mistaken?
No, Mrs Pilling. It's a perfectly straightforward case.
To you, maybe. Not to that clever husband of mine, the great lubbot.
When I think what he's put me good dog through, I could kill him!
Well, I expect he thought he was acting for the best.
I don't care what he thought, he's made me poor dog suffer.
There.
Thyroid extract. One to Jimbo morning and night.
But he'll need summat rubbed on his skin.
No, applications to the skin don't do any good at all.
You mean them filthy bottles of stuff
that fancy fella in Broughton made him buy were a waste of time?
I'm afraid so, yes.
Yellow it was, and stank the place out!
Ruined me carpets and good chair covers and all...
By gum, just wait till I get home. I'll sort him. By gum, I will!
Paul, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.
No, not a bit. The lady was ahead of me.
Paul, I wasn't absolutely straight with you last night. (CLEARS THROAT)
I know that, old chap.
I said you were no poker player.
Well?
Well, there's no need for me to examine Theo again.
He's got Hodgkin's disease.
Let's have it in layman's terms.
Cancer of the lymphatic system.
-And? -He's going to die, Paul.
I see.
-Quite sure, James? -Mmm. Absolutely.
I'm terribly sorry.
Is there no treatment?
Well, yes, there are various palliatives.
I've never seen any of them do any good.
The end result's always the same.
Doesn't look so bad.
What... What happens if we don't do anything?
Well, as the internal glands get bigger, various things happen.
Ascites, dropsy develops in the abdomen.
In fact, you can see he's a bit pot-bellied already.
Yes, I do, now you mention it.
Anything else?
Yes, as the thoracic glands enlarge, he'll begin to pant.
Yes, I've noticed that already. He's breathless after a short walk.
And he'll get thinner and thinner and more debilitated.
So, what it amounts to is he's going to be pretty miserable
for the rest of his life.
How long is that going to be?
Oh, two or three weeks. Well, it varies, up to three months.
Well, James, I can't let that happen. It's my responsibility.
You must put him to sleep now before he really starts to suffer.
-Don't you agree? -It's the kindest thing, yes.
Will you do it immediately?
-As soon as I'm out of that door. -Of course.
He won't know a thing, Paul.
Goodbye, old chap.
It's an occupational hazard, James, one of the greyer aspects of our profession.
None of us enjoys it very much.
But the last thing that a funny little creature like Theo feels
is the touch of a human hand,
and the last thing he hears is the gentleness of a human voice.
It's the best we can manage.
Of course I do appreciate that, Siegfried. I was thinking about Paul.
SIEGFRIED: What about him?
Oh, I don't know, I can't put my finger on it.
It's not that it didn't touch him, I know damn well it did.
He wasn't hard, he wasn't the least bit sentimental,
he didn't shilly-shally for a moment.
He saw the situation for what it was and came to terms with it there and then.
I find that very rare.
My dear old, James, it is, but isn't that exactly what
we decided about him the other day, he's a rare fellow.
-You know, I could do with a drink. -Well, I think we all could.
(CHUCKLES)
Oh, there she comes.
Have you ever noticed at these moments how immaculate my brother's timing is?
How was York, Tris?
Well, do you know, Helen, I hardly noticed. I only had eyes for myself.
Have you ever been in a fitting room of a really good tailor, James?
It's fantastic! Mirrors all around you,
you see yourself from the most extraordinary angles.
Not just the front view, but the side view and the back view.
And in a sort of corridor of diminishing images which goes on forever.
You didn't find the experience depressing?
Oh, no, not at all! I mean, that suit, what it's going to be,
midnight blue, double-breasted, silk facings.
-I chose the material with MacAfee himself. -Oh, great.
Which reminds me, they're military tailors so they get all the gossip.
He thinks the Dragoons are going to be mechanised.
He's absolutely right. That was going to be my bit of news,
and it's good news.
Now, James, what value would you place on (CLEARS THROAT) Number 90?
-Well, valuing horses of quality... -SIEGFRIED: Have a go.
250 guineas?
Absolutely bang right, I'd say. And as horse meat for the knackers man?
Well, the going rate, 15 quid.
That's quite right again. And that's exactly what Hulton paid the Army for him.
-He's bought him? -Yes.
The Dragoons were going to lose their horses anyway, but apparently,
Number 90's been reported as unmanageable so he was due for the bullet.
-So Hulton got him for the price of dead meat. -(HELEN GASPS)
Come with me tomorrow, James, I'll show you something to cheer you up.
HULTON: Steady as a train.
Changes feet like a circus horse.
-That lad handles him very nicely. -Oh, he's a natural.
He comes here to see Number 90 every time he gets a day pass.
-Leg's absolutely sound. -Hmm.
Yes, very satisfactory.
-Shall you hunt him next season? -Oh, yes.
If there is a next season.
Right, my boy! Take him over the jumps!
Oh! Firm as a rock.
Clean as a whistle.
Well done, my boy!
Thank you, My Lord.
Take him back to the stables and give him a good rub down.
Yes, My Lord.
Go on!
Poor old Raven.
He won't like maintaining the engine of an armoured car after this.
You know, I owe you two a deuce of a lot.
You saved that magnificent horse, Farnon, and you saved my favourite sow, Herriot.
-How is Lucy? -Oh, she's superb, old boy.
I'd like to see her before we leave.
Oh, she'd be very offended if you didn't.
Well, sun's over the yard arm.
Time for a little refreshment, I think!
What's all this? Secret drinking?
I needed one.
Darling, what's wrong?
I thought you'd have heard. It's all over Darrowby.
What is?
Paul Cotterell's dead.
Dead?
He took an overdose of sleeping pills.
I walked over to see his landlady, Mrs Clayton.
She's a really sweet little woman.
She's terribly upset.
She told me things about Paul we didn't know.
He wasn't at all what he seemed, James,
the easy manner, the self-confidence, it was all a facade.
He suffered from the most frightful bouts of black depression.
He was a terribly lonely man.
Theo was all he had.
All he really cared for.
Oh, I see.
And having to have Theo put to sleep, well, that was the last straw.
Yes, I suppose it was.
James...
James, don't be silly.
You can't possibly blame yourself.
Hey!
-Paul wouldn't want you to. -No!
No, I suppose not.