NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan't shut up.

[Enter CHUBUKOV.]

CHUBUKOV. What's the matter now?

NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, tell us truly, which is the better dog,
our Squeezer or his Guess.

LOMOV. Stepan Stepanovitch, I implore you to tell me just one
thing: is your Squeezer overshot or not? Yes or no?

CHUBUKOV. And suppose he is? What does it matter? He's the best dog
in the district for all that, and so on.

LOMOV. But isn't my Guess better? Really, now?

CHUBUKOV. Don't excite yourself, my precious one. ... Allow me. ...
Your Guess certainly has his good points. ... He's pure-bred, firm
on his feet, has well-sprung ribs, and all that. But, my dear man,
if you want to know the truth, that dog has two defects: he's old
and he's short in the muzzle.

LOMOV. Excuse me, my heart. ... Let's take the facts. ... You will
remember that on the Marusinsky hunt my Guess ran neck-and-neck
with the Count's dog, while your Squeezer was left a whole verst
behind.

CHUBUKOV. He got left behind because the Count's whipper-in hit him