Yes. [The Deantotters across to a chair, into which he sinks with his head upon the table.] Master! Listen!
The Dean.
It’s all over! It’s all over!
Hannah.
No, no—Listen! I was well fed and kept seven years at the Deanery—I’ve been wed to Noah Topping eight weeks—that’s six years and ten months’ lovin’ duty doo to you and yours before I owe nothing to my darling Noah. Master dear, you shan’t be took to Durnstone!
The Dean.
Silence! Hannah Topping, formerly Evans, it is my duty to inform you that your reasoning does more credit to your heart than to your head.
Hannah.
I can’t help that. The Devil’s always in a woman’s heart because it’s the warmest place to get to! [Taking a small key from the table drawer.] Here, take that! [Pushing the key into the pocket of his coat.] When you once get free from my darling Noah that key unlocks your handcuffs!
The Dean.
Handcuffs!
Hannah.
How are you to get free, that’s the question now, isn’t it? I’ll tell you. My Noah drives you over to Durnstone with old Nick in the cart.
The Dean.
Old Nick!
Hannah.
That’s the horse. Now Nick was formerly in the Durnstone Fire Brigade, and when he ’ears the familiar signal of a double whistle you can’t hold him in. There’s the whistle. [Putting it intoThe Dean’spocket.] Directly you turn into Pear Tree Lane, blow once and you’ll see Noah with his nose in the air, pullin’ fit to wrench his ’ands off. Jump out—roll clear of the wheel—keep cool and ’opeful and blow again. Before you can get the mud out of your eyes Noah and the horse and cart will be well into Durnstone, and may Providence restore a young ’usband safe to his doatin’ wife!
The Dean.
Hannah! How dare you! [Recoiling horror-stricken.
Hannah.
[Crying.] Oh—ooh—ooh!
The Dean.
Is this the fruit of your seven years’ constant cookery at the Deanery?
Hannah.
Oh dear! I wouldn’t have done it, only this is your first offence!
The Dean.
My first offence, oh!
Hannah.
You’re not too old; I want to give you another start in life!
The Dean.
Another start! Woman, do you think I’ve no conscience? Do you think I don’t realize the enormity of the—of the difficulties in alighting from a vehicle in rapid motion?
Hannah.
[Opening the oven and taking out a small joint in a baking tin, which she places on the table.] It’s ’unger what makes you feel conscientious!
The Dean.
[Waving her away.] I have done with you!
Hannah.
With me, sir—but not with the joint! You’ll feel wickeder when you’ve had a little nourishment. [He looks hungrily at the dish.] That’s right, Dean, dear—taste my darling Noah’s favorite dish.
The Dean.
[Advancing towards the table.] Oh, Hannah Topping—Hannah Topping! [Clutching the carving-knife despairingly.] I’ll have no more women cooks at the Deanery! This reads me a lesson.
[Sitting and carving with desperation.
Hannah.
Don’t stint yourself, sir. You can’t blow that whistle on an empty frame. [The Deanbegins to eat.] Don’t my cooking carry you back, sir? Oh, say it do!
The Dean.
Ah, if every mouthful would carry me back one little hour I would finish this joint!
[Noah Topping,unperceived byHannahandThe Dean,climbs in by the window, his eyes bolting with rage—he glares round the room, taking in everything at a glance.
Noah.
[Under his breath.] My man o’ mystery—a waited on by my nooly made wife—a heating o’ my favorite meal.
[TouchingHannahon the arm, she turns and faces him, speechless with fright.
The Dean.
[Still eating.] If my mind were calmer this would be an all-sufficient repast. [Hannahtries to speak, then clasps her hands and sinks on her knees toNoah.] Hannah, a little plain cold water in a simple tumbler, please.
Noah.
[Grimly—folding his arms.] ’Annah, hintrodooce me. [Hannahgives a cry and clings toNoah’slegs.
The Dean.
[Calmly toNoah.] Am I to gather, constable, from your respective attitudes that you object to these little kindnesses extended to me by your worthy wife?
Noah.
I’m wishin’ to know the name o’ my worthy wife’s friend. A friend o’ hern is a friend o’ mian.
Hannah.
Noahry! Noahry!
Noah.
She’s gettin’ me a lot o’ nice noo friends since we coom to St. Marvells.
Hannah.
Noahry! I made this gentleman’s acquaintance through the wicket, in a casual way.
Noah.
Ay. Cooks and railins—cooks and railins! I might a guessed my wedded life ’ud a coom to this.
Hannah.
He spoke to me just as a strange gentleman ought to speak to a lady! Didn’t you, sir—didn’t you?
The Dean.
Hannah, do not let us even under these circumstances prevaricate; such is not quite the case!
[Noahadvances savagely toThe Dean.There is a knocking at the door.—Noahrestrains himself and facesThe Dean.
Noah.
Noa, this is neither the toime nor pla-ace, wi’ people at the door and dinner on t’ table, to spill a strange man’s blood.
The Dean.
I trust that your self-respect as an officer of the law will avert anything so unseemly.
Noah.
Ay. That’s it! You’ve touched me on my point o’ pride. There ain’t another police-station in all Durnstone conducted more strict and rigid nor what mian is, and it shall so continue. You and me is a goin’ to set out for Durnstone, and when the chargesnow standin’ agen you is entered, it’s I, Noah Topping, what’ll hadd another!
[There is another knock at the door.
Hannah.
Noah!
Noah.
The charge of allynating the affections o’ my wife, ’Annah!
The Dean.
[Horrified.] No, no!
Noah.
Ay, and worse—the embezzlin’ o’ my mid-day meal prepared by her ’ands. [Points into the cell.] Go in; you ’ave five minutes more in the ’ome you ’ave ruined and laid waste.
The Dean.
[Going to the door and turning toNoah.] You will at least receive my earnest assurance that this worthy woman is extremely innocent?
Noah.
Hinnocent? [Points to the joint on the table.] Look theer! [The Dean,much overcome, disappears through the cell door, whichNoahcloses and locks. The knock at the door is repeated. ToHannah,pointing to the outer door.] Hunlock that door!
Hannah.
[Weeping.] Oh, Noahry, you’ll never be popular in St. Marvells.
Noah.
Hunlock that door!
[Hannahunlocks the door, and admitsGeorgianaandSir Tristram,both dressed for the race-course.
Georgiana.
Dear me! Is this the Police-Station?
Hannah.
Yes, lady. Take a chair, lady, near the fire. [ToSir Tristram.] Sit down, sir.
Georgiana.
This is my first visit to a police-station, my good woman; I hope it will be the last.
Hannah.
Oh, don’t say that, ma’am. We’re honly hauxilliary ’ere, ma’am—the Bench sets at Durnstone.
Georgiana.
I must say you try to make everybody feel at home.
[Hannahcurtseys.
Sir Tristram.
It’s beautifully Arcadian.
Georgiana.
[ToHannah.] Perhaps this is only a police-station for the young?
Hannah.
No, ma’am, we take ladies and gentlemen like yourselves.
Noah.
[Who has not been noticed, surveyingGeorgianaandSir Tristram,gloomily.] ’Annah, hintrodooce me.
Georgiana.
[FacingNoah.] Good gracious! What’s that! Oh, good-morning.
Noah.
’Annah’s a gettin’ me a lot o’ nice noo friends this week since we coom to St. Marvells.
Hannah.
Noah, Noah—the lady and gentlemen is strange.
Noah.
Ho!
Georgiana.
Are you the man in charge here?
Noah.
Ay; are you seeing me on business or pleasure?
Sir Tristram.
Do you imagine people come here to see you?
Noah.
Noa—they generally coom to see my wife. ’Owever, if it’s business [pointing to the other side of the room] that’s the hofficial side—this is domestic. You’ll hall kindly move over.
Sir TristramandGeorgiana.
Oh, certainly.
[Changing their seats.
Sir Tristram.
Now, look here, my man. This lady is Mrs. Tidman. Mrs. Tidman is the sister of Dr. Jedd, the Dean of St. Marvells.
Hannah.
[With a gasp.] Oh!
Georgiana.
There’s something wrong with your wife.
Noah.
Ay. She’s profligate—proceedins are pendin’!
Georgiana.
[ToSir Tristram.] Strange police station! My flesh creeps.
Sir Tristram.
[ToNoah.] Well, my good man, to come to the point. My poor friend and this lady’s brother, Dr. Jedd, the Dean, you know—has mysteriously and unaccountably disappeared.
Georgiana.
Vanished.
Sir Tristram.
Gone.
Noah.
Absconded.
Georgiana.
Absconded! How dare you.
Noah.
Respectable man, was ’e?
Georgiana.
What do you mean?
Sir Tristram.
This lady is his sister!
Noah.
Now, look ’ere—it’s no good a gettin’ ’asty and irritable with the law. I’ll coom over to yer, officially.
[Putting the baking tin under his arm he crosses over toSir TristramandGeorgiana.
Sir Tristram.
[Putting his handkerchief to his face.] Don’t bring that horrible odor of cooking over here.
Georgiana.
Take it away! What is it?
Noah.
It’s evidence against my profligate wife.
[Sir TristramandGeorgianaexchange looks of impatience.
Georgiana.
Do you realize that my poor brother the Dean is missing?
Noah.
Ay. Touching this missin’ De-an.
Georgiana.
I left him last night to retire to rest.
Sir Tristram.
This morning he is not to be found!
Noah.
Ay. ’As it struck you to look in ’is bed?
GeorgianaandSir Tristram.
Of course!
Georgiana.
Everybody did that!
Noah.
One ’ud a done. It’s only confusin’—hall doin’ it! Money matters right or wrong?
[Georgianaputs her handkerchief to her eyes.
Sir Tristram.
Do put your questions more feelingly! This is his sister—I am his friend!
Noah.
You will push yourselves forrard. Had he anything on his mind?
Georgiana.
Yes!
Noah.
Then I’ve got a the’ry.
GeorgianaandSir Tristram.
What is it?
Noah.
A the’ry that will put you all out o’ suspense!
GeorgianaandSir Tristram.
Yes, yes!
Noah.
I’ve been a good bit about, I read a deal, and I’m a shrewd experienced man. I should say this is nothin’ but a hordinary case of sooicide.
[Georgianasits faintly.
Sir Tristram.
[Savagely toNoah.] Get out of the way! Georgiana?
Georgiana.
Oh, Tris, if this were true how could we break it to the girls?
Noah.
I could run oop, durin’ the evenin’, and break it to the girls.
Sir Tristram.
[Turns uponNoah.] Look here, all you’ve got to do is to hold your tongue and take down my description of the Dean, and report his disappearance at Durnstone. [Pushing him into a chair.] Go on! [Dictating.] “Missing. The Very Reverend Augustin Jedd, Dean of St. Marvells.” Poor Gus! Poor Gus!
Hannah.
[Softly toGeorgiana.] Lady, lady.
[Noahprepares to write, depositing the baking-tin on the table.
Georgiana.
[Turning.] Eh?
Hannah.
Hush! Listen to me!
[Speaks toGeorgianaexcitedly.
Sir Tristram.
[ToNoah.] Have you got that?
Noah.
[Writing laboriously with his legs curled round the chair and his head on the table.] Ay. I’m spelling it my own way.
Sir Tristram.
Poor dear old Gus! [Dictating.] “Description!”
Noah.
Oh noa!
Sir Tristram.
“Description!”
Noah.
I suppose he was jest the hordinary sort o’ lookin’ man.
Sir Tristram.
No, no! “Description!”
Georgiana.
[Turning fromHannah,excitedly.] Description—a little, short, thin man, with black hair and a squint!
Sir Tristram.
[ToGeorgiana.] No, no, he isn’t.
Georgiana.
Yes, he is!
Sir Tristram.
Georgiana! What are you talking about?
Georgiana.
I’m Gus’s sister—I ought to know what he’s like!
Sir Tristram.
Good heavens, Georgiana—your mind is not going?
Georgiana.
[ClutchingSir Tristram’sarm and whispering in his ear, as she points to the cell door.] He’s in there!
Sir Tristram.
Eh!
Georgiana.
Gus is the villain found dosing Dandy Dick last night!
Sir Tristram.
[Falling back.] Oh! [HannahseizesSir Tristramand talks to him rapidly.] [ToNoah.] What have you written?
Noah.
I’ve written “Hanswers to the name o’ Gus!”
Georgiana.
[Snatching the paper from him.] It’s not wanted. I’ve altered my mind. I’m too busy to bother about him this week.
Noah.
What! Hafter wasting my time?
Georgiana.
Look here—you’re the constable who took the man in the Deanery Stables last night?
Noah.
Ay. [Looking out of the window.] There’s my cart outside ready to take the scoundrel over to Durnstone.
Georgiana.
I should like to see him.
Noah.
You can view him passin’ out.
[He tucks the baking-tin under his arm and goes up to the cell door.
Georgiana.
[To herself.] Oh, Gus, Gus!
Noah.
[Unlocking the door.] I warn yer. ’E’s a awful looking creature.
Georgiana.
I can stand it; I love horrors!
[Noahgoes into the cell, closing the door after him.
Tris!
Sir Tristram.
Georgiana!
Georgiana.
What was my brother’s motive in bolusing Dandy last night?
Sir Tristram.
I can’t think. The first thing to do is to get him out of this hole. This good woman has arranged for his escape.
Georgiana.
But we can’t trust to Gus rolling out of a flying dogcart! Why, it’s as much as I could do!
Hannah.
Oh, yes, lady, he’ll do it. I’ve prewided for everything. Don’t betray him to Noah! There’s another—a awfuller charge hangin’ over his reverend ’ead.
Sir Tristram.
Another charge!
Georgiana.
Another! Oh Tris! To think my own stock should run vicious like this.
Hannah.
Hush, lady!
[Noahcomes out of the cell withThe Dean,who is in handcuffs.
GeorgianaandSir Tristram.
Oh!
The Dean.
[Raising his eyes, seesSir TristramandGeorgiana,and recoils with a groan, sinking on to a chair.] Oh!
Noah.
Oop you get!
Sir Tristram.
No, no, stay! I am the owner of the horse stabled at the Deanery. I make no charge against this wretched person. [ToThe Dean.] Oh man, man!
The Dean.
I was discovered administering to a suffering beast a simple remedy for chills. I am an unfortunate creature. Do with me what you will.
Georgiana.
The analysis hasn’t come home from the chemist’s yet. Is this the truth?
The Dean.
Yes.
Sir Tristram.
[ToNoah.] Release this man.
Noah.
Release him! He was found trespassin’ in the stables of the la-ate De-an, who has committed sooicide.
The Dean.
Oh! I——
Sir Tristram, GeorgianaandHannah.
Hush!
Noah.
The Diseased De-an is the honly man wot can withdraw one charge——
The Dean.
I—listen!
Sir Tristram, GeorgianaandHannah.
Hush!
Noah.
And I’m the honly man wot can withdraw the other.
Sir Tristram.
You? Get out!
Georgiana.
Get out!
Noah.
I charge this person unknown with allynating the affections o’ my wife while I was puttin’ my ’orse to. And I’m goin’ to drive him over to Durnstone with the hevidence.
Hannah.
Oh lady, lady, it’s appearances what is against us.
Noah.
[Through the opening of the door.] Woa! Steady there! Get back!
Georgiana.
[Whispering toThe Dean.] I am disappointed in you, Angustin. Have you got this wretched woman’s whistle?
The Dean.
Yes.
Sir Tristram.
[Softly toThe Dean.] Oh Jedd, Jedd—and these are what you call Principles! Have you got the key of your handcuffs?
The Dean.
Yes.
Noah.
[Appearing in the doorway.] Time’s oop. Coom on!
The Dean.
May I say a few parting words in the home I have apparently wrecked?
Noah.
Say’ em and ’a done.
The Dean.
In setting out upon a journey, the termination of which is problematical, I desire to attest that this erring constable is the husband of a wife from whom it is impossible to withhold respect, if not admiration.
Noah.
You ’ear’ im!
The Dean.
As for my wretched self, the confession of my weaknesses must be reserved for another time—another place. [ToGeorgiana.] To you, whose privilege it is to shelter in the sanctity of the Deanery, I give this earnest admonition. Within an hour from this terrible moment, let the fire be lighted in the drawing-room—let the missing man’s warm bath be waiting for its master—a change of linen prepared. Withhold your judgments. Wait.
Noah.
This is none of your business. Coom on.
The Dean.
I am ready!
[Noahtakes him by the arm and leads him out.
Georgiana.
Oh, what am I to think of my brother?
Hannah.
[Kneeling atGeorgiana’sfeet.] Think! That he’s the beautifullest, sweetest man in all Durnshire!
Georgiana.
Woman!
Hannah.
It’s I and my whistle and Nick the fire-brigade horse what’ll bring him back to the Deanery safe and unharmed. Not a soul but we three’ll ever know of his misfortune. [Listening.] Hark! They’re off!
Noah.
[Outside.] Get up, now! Get-oop, old girl!
Hannah.
[With a cry.] Ah! [Rushing to the door and looking out.] He’s done for!
GeorgianaandSir Tristram.
Done for!
Hannah.
The Dean can whistle himself blue! Noah’s put Kitty in the cart, and left Old Nick at home!
THE END OF THE FIRST SCENE.
The second scene is the Morning Room at the Deanery again.
SalomeandShebaare sitting there gloomily.
Salome.
Poor Papa!
Sheba.
Poor dear Papa!
Salome.
He must return very soon—he must!
Sheba.
He must! In the meantime it is such a comfort to feel that we have no cause for self-reproach.
Salome.
But the anxiety is terribly wearing.
Sheba.
Nothing is so weakening, Salome.
Salome.
Sheba, dear.
Sheba.
[Clinging toSalome.] If I should pine and ultimately die of this suspense I want you to have my workbox.
Salome.
[Shaking her head and sadly turning away.] Thank you, dear, but if Papa is not home for afternoon tea you will outlive me.
[Turning towards the window asMajor TarverandMr. Darbeyappear outside.
Darbey.
[Outside.] Miss Jedd! Miss Jedd!
Salome.
Sheba! Here are Gerald Tarver and Mr. Darbey!
Sheba.
Oh, the presumption! Open the window and dare them to enter!
[Salomeunfastens the window.
Darbey.
[Outside.] Thank you. Don’t be shocked when you see Tarver.
TarverandDarbeyenter, dressed for the Races, butDarbeyis supportingTarver,who looks extremely weakly.
Tarver.
Pardon this informal method of presenting ourselves.
Salome.
You do well, gentlemen, to intrude upon two feeble women at a moment of sorrow.
Sheba.
One step further, and I shall ask Major Tarver, who is nearest the bell, to ring for help.
[Tarversinks into a chair.
Darbey.
[Standing by the side ofTarver.] There now. The fact is. Miss Jedd, that Tarver is in an exceedingly critical condition. Feeling that he has incurred your displeasure he has failed even in the struggle to gain the race-course. I have taken him to Dr. Middleton and I explained that Major Tarver loved with a passion [looking atSheba] second only to my own.
Salome.
[Sitting comfortably on the settee.] Oh, we cannot listen to you, Mr. Darbey.
Sheba.
Go on, sir, if you can.
[The two girls exchange looks.
Darbey.
The Doctor made a searching examination of the Major’s tongue and diagnosed that, unless the Major at once proposed to the lady in question and was accepted, three weeks or a month at the seaside would be absolutely imperative. Shall I continue?
Salome.
Oh, certainly. I am helpless.
Sheba.
We are curious to see to what lengths you will go.
Darbey.
The pitiable condition of my poor friend speaks for itself.
Salome.
I beg your pardon—it does nothing of the kind.
Tarver.
[Rising with difficulty and approachingSalome.] Salome—I have loved you distractedly for upwards of eight weeks.
Salome.
[Going to him.] Oh, Major Tarver, let me pass; [holding his coat firmly] let me pass, I say.
Tarver.
Unless you push me, never!
Sheba.
Spare me this scene, Mr. Darbey.
[DarbeyfollowsShebaacross the room.
Tarver.
To a man in my condition love is either a rapid and fatal malady, or it is an admirable digestive. Accept me, and my merry laugh once more rings through the Mess Room. Reject me, and my collection of vocal music, loose and in volumes, will be brought to the hammer, and the bird, as it were, will trill no more.
Salome.
And is it really I who would hush the little throaty songster?
Tarver.
Certainly. [Taking a sheet of paper from his pocket.] I have the Doctor’s certificate to that effect.
[Both reading the certificate they walk into Library.
Sheba.
Oh, Mr. Darbey, I have never thought of marriage seriously.
Darbey.
People never do till theyaremarried.
Sheba.
But think, only think of my age.
Darbey.
Pardon me, Sheba—but what is your age?
Sheba.
Oh, it is so very little—it is not worth mentioning. Cannot we remain friends and occasionally correspond?
Darbey.
Well, of course—if you insist——
Sheba.
No, no, I see that is impracticable. It must be wed or part. All I ask is time—time to ponder over such a question, time to know myself better.
Darbey.
Certainly, how long?
Sheba.
Give me two or three minutes. Hush!
[They separate asTarverandSalomere-enter the room.Tarveris glaring excitedly and biting his nails.
Tarver.
I never thought I should live to be accepted by anyone. I shall buy some gay songs. Er—when can I see the Dean?
Salome.
Oh, don’t!
Tarver.
Salome!
Salome.
Papa has been out all night.
DarbeyandTarver.
All night?
Salome.
Isn’t it terrible! Oh, what do you think of it, Mr. Darbey?
Darbey.
Shocking, but we oughtn’t to condemn him unheard.
Salome.
Condemn my Papa!
Sheba.
[At the window.] Here’s Aunt Georgiana!
Darbey.
Eh! Look out, Tarver.
[Going out quickly.
Salome.
[PullingTarverafter her.] Come this way and let us take cuttings in the conservatory.
[They go out.
Sheba.
Mr. Darbey! Mr. Darbey, wait for me—I have decided.Yes.
[She goes out by the door asGeorgianaenters excitedly at the window.
Georgiana.
[Waving her handkerchief.] Come on, Tris! The course is clear! Mind the gate-post! Hold him up! Now give him his head!
Sir TristramandHatchamenter by the window carryingThe Dean.They all look as though they have been recently engaged in a prolonged struggle.
Sir Tristram.
Put him down!
Georgiana.
Put him down!
Hatcham.
That I will, ma’am, and gladly.
[They depositThe Deanin a chair andGeorgianaandSir Tristrameach seize a hand, feelingThe Dean’spulse, whileHatchamputs his hand onThe Dean’sheart.
The Dean.
[Opening his eyes.] Where am I now?
Georgiana.
He lives! Hurrah! Cheer man, cheer!
Sir TristramandHatcham.
[Quietly.] Hurrah! [ToHatcham.] We can’t shout here; go and cheer as loudly as you can in the roadway by yourself.
Hatcham.
Yes, Sir.
[Hatchamruns out at the window.
The Dean.
[Gradually recovering.] Georgiana—Mardon.
Sir Tristram.
How are you, Jedd, old boy?
Georgiana.
How do you feel now, Gus?
The Dean.
Torn to fragments.
Sir Tristram.
So you are. Thank heaven, he’s conscious.
The Dean.
I feel as if I had been walked over carefully by a large concourse of the lower orders!
Georgiana.
So you have been. Thank heaven, his memory is all right.
[Hatcham’svoice is heard in the distance cheering. They all listen.
Sir Tristram.
That’s Hatcham; I’ll raise his wages.
The Dean.
Do I understand that I have been forcibly and illegally rescued?
Sir Tristram.
That’s it, old fellow.
The Dean.
Who has committed such a reprehensible act?
Sir Tristram.
A woman who would have been a heroine in any age—Georgiana!
The Dean.
Georgiana, I am bound to overlook it, in a relative, but never let this occur again.
Sir Tristram.
Tell him.
Georgiana.
You found out that that other woman’s plan went lame, didn’t you?
The Dean.
I discovered its inefficacy, after a prolonged period of ineffectual whistling.
Georgiana.
But we ascertained the road the genial constable was going to follow. He was bound for the edge of the hill, up Pear Tree Lane, to watch the Races. Directly we knew this, Tris and I made for the Hill. Bless your soul, there were hundreds of my old friends there—welshers, pick-pockets, card-sharpers, all the lowest race-course cads in the kingdom. In a minute I was in the middle of ’em, as much at home as a Duchess in a Drawing-room.
Sir Tristram.
A Queen in a Palace!
Georgiana.
Boadicea among the Druids! “Do you know me?” I holloaed out. Instantly there was a cry of “Blessed if it ain’t George Tidd!” Tears of real joy sprang to my eyes—while I was wiping them away Tris had his pockets emptied and I lost my watch.
Sir Tristram.
Ah, Jedd, it was a glorious moment!
Georgiana.
Tris made a back, and I stood on it, supported by a correct-card merchant on either side. “Dear friends,” I said; “Brothers! I’m with you once again.” You should have heard the shouts of honest welcome. Before I could obtain silence my field glasses had gone on their long journey. “Listen tome,” I said. “A very dear relative of mine has been collared for playing the three-card trick on his way down from town.” There was a groan of sympathy. “He’ll be on the brow of the Hill with a bobby in half-an-hour,” said I, “who’s for the rescue?” A dead deep silence followed, broken only by the sweet voice of a young child, saying, “What’ll we get for it?” “A pound a-piece,” said I. There was a roar of assent, and my concluding words, “and possibly six months,” were never heard. At that moment Tris’ back could stand it no longer, and we came heavily to the ground together. [SeizingThe Deanby the hand and dragging him up.] Now you know whose hands have led you back to your own manger. [Embracing him.] And oh, brother, confess—isn’t there something good and noble in true English sport after all?
The Dean.
Every abused institution has its redeeming characteristic. But whence is the money to come to reward these dreadful persons? I cannot reasonably ask my girls to organize a bazaar or concert.
Georgiana.
Concert! I’m a rich woman.
The Dean.
Rich!
Georgiana.
Well, I’ve cleared fifteen hundred over the Handicap.
The Dean.
[Recoiling.] No! Then the horse who enjoyed the shelter of the Deanery last night——
Sir Tristram.
Dandy Dick!
The Dean.
Won!
Georgiana.
In a common canter! All the rest nowhere, and Bonny Betsy walked in with the policeman.
The Dean.
[To himself.] Five hundred pounds towards the Spire! Five hundred! Oh, where is Blore with the good news!
Sir Tristram.
Look at him! Lively as a cricket!
The Dean.
Sir Tristram, I am under the impression that your horse swallowed reluctantly a small portion of that bolus last night before I was surprised and removed.
Sir Tristram.
By the bye, I am expecting the analysis of that concoction every minute.
The Dean.
Spare yourself the trouble—the secret is with me. I seek no acknowledgment from either of you, but in your moment of deplorable triumph remember with gratitude the little volume of “The Horse and its Ailments” and the prosaic name of its humane author—John Cox.
[He goes out through the Library.
Georgiana.
But oh, Tris Mardon, what can I ever say to you?
Sir Tristram.
Anything you like except “Thank you!”
Georgiana.
Don’t stop me? Why, you were the man who hauled Augustin out of the cart by his legs!
Sir Tristram.
Oh, but why mention such trifles?
Georgiana.
They’re not trifles. And when his cap fell off, it was you—brave fellow that you are—who pulled the horse’s nose-bag over my brother’s head so that he shouldn’t be recognized.
Sir Tristram.
My dear Georgiana, these are the common courtesies of every-day life.
Georgiana.
They are acts which any true woman would esteem. Gus won’t readily forget the critical moment when all the cut chaff ran down the back of his neck—nor shall I.
Sir Tristram.
Nor shall I forget the way in which you gave Dandy his whisky out of a soda water bottle just before the race.
Georgiana.
That’s nothing—any lady would do the same.
Sir Tristram.
Nothing! You looked like the Florence Nightingale of the paddock! Oh, Georgiana, why, why, why won’t you marry me?
Georgiana.
Why!
Sir Tristram.
Why?
Georgiana.
Why! Because you’ve only just asked me, Tris!
[Goes to him cordially.
Sir Tristram.
But when I touched your hand last night, you reared!
Georgiana.
Yes, Tris, old man, but love is founded on mutual esteem; last night you hadn’t put my brother’s head in that nose-bag.
[They go together to the fireplace, he with his arm round her waist.
Sheba.
[Looking in at the door.] How annoying! There’s Aunt and Sir Tristram in this room—Salome and Major Tarver are sitting on the hot pipes in the conservatory—where am I and Mr. Darbey to go? Papa! Come back!
[She withdraws quickly asThe Deanenters through the Library carrying a paper in his hand; he has now resumed his normal appearance.
The Dean.
Home! What sonorous music is in the word! Home, with the secret of my sad misfortune buried in the bosoms of a faithful few. Home, with my family influence intact! Home, with the sceptre ofmy dignity still tight in my grasp! What is this I have picked up on the stairs?
[Reads with a horrified look, asHatchamenters at the window.
Hatcham.
Beg pardon, Sir Tristram.
Sir Tristram.
What is it?
Hatcham.
The chemist has just brought the annalisis.
Sir Tristram.
Where is he?
[Sir TristramandGeorgianago out at the window, followingHatcham.
The Dean.
It is too horrible! [Reading.] “Debtor to Lewis Isaacs, Costumier to the Queen, Bow Street—Total, Forty pounds, nineteen!” There was a fancy masked ball at Durnstone last night! Salome—Sheba—no, no!
SalomeandSheba.
[Bounding in and rushing atThe Dean.] Papa, Papa!
Salome.
Our own Papa!
Sheba.
Papsey!
[Salomeseizes his hands,Shebahis coat-tails, and turn him round violently.
Salome.
Our parent returned!
Sheba.
Papsey—come back!
The Dean.
Stop!
Salome.
Papa, why have you tortured us with anxiety?
Sheba.
Where have you been, you naughty man?
The Dean.
Before I answer a question, which, from a child to its parent, partakes of the unpardonable vice of curiosity, I demand an explanation of this disreputable document. [Reading.] “Debtor to Lewis Isaacs, Costumier to the Queen.”
SalomeandSheba.
Oh!
[Shebasits aghast on the table—Salomedistractedly falls on the floor.
The Dean.
I will not follow this legend in all its revolting intricacies. Suffice it, its moral is inculcated by the mournful total. Forty pounds, nineteen! Imps of deceit! [Looking from one to the other.] There was a ball at Durnstone last night. I know it.
Sheba.
Spare us!
Salome.
You couldn’t have been there, Papa!
The Dean.
There! I trust I was better—that is, otherwise employed. [Referring to the bill.] Which of my hitherto trusted daughters was a lady—no, I will say a person—of the period of the French Revolution?
[Shebapoints toSalome.
The Dean.
And a flower-girl of an unknown epoch. [Salomepoints toSheba.] To your respective rooms! [The girls cling together.] Let your blinds be drawn. At seven porridge will be brought to you.
Salome.
Papa!
The Dean.
Go!
Sheba.
Papsey!
The Dean.
Go!
Salome.
Papa, we, poor girls as we are, can pay the bill.
The Dean.
You cannot—go!
Sheba.
Through the kindness of our Aunt——
Salome.
We have won fifty pounds.
The Dean.
What!
Sheba.
At the Races!
The Dean.
[Recoiling.] You too! You too drawn into the vortex! Is there no conscience that is clear—is there no guilessness left in this house, with the possible exception of my own!
Sheba.
[Sobbing.] We always knew a little more than you gave us credit for, Papa.
The Dean.
[HandingShebathe bill.] Take this horrid thing—never let it meet my eyes again. As for the scandalous costumes, they shall be raffled for in aid of local charities. Confidence, that precious pearl in the snug shell of domesticity, is at an end between us. I chastise you both by permanently withholding from you the reason of my absence from home last night. Go!
[The girls totter out asSir Tristramenters quickly at the window, followed byGeorgiana,carrying the basin containing the bolus.Sir Tristramhas an opened letter in his hand.
Sir Tristram.
Good heavens, Jedd! the analysis has arrived!
The Dean.
I am absolutely indifferent!
GeorgianaandSir Tristram.
Indifferent!
The Dean.
[ToGeorgiana.] How dare you confront me without even the semblance of a blush—you who haveenabled my innocent babies, for the first time in their lives, to discharge one of their own accounts.