Chapter III: Part 3

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.

[_GEORGIANA sits faintly._

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Savagely to NOAH._] 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 upon NOAH._] 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 to GEORGIANA._] Lady, lady.

[_NOAH prepares to write, depositing the baking-tin on the table._

GEORGIANA.

[_Turning._] Eh?

HANNAH.

Hush! Listen to me!

[_Speaks to GEORGIANA excitedly._

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_To NOAH._] 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 from HANNAH, excitedly._] Description--a little, short, thin man, with black hair and a squint!

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_To GEORGIANA._] 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.

[_Clutching SIR TRISTRAM'S arm 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! [_HANNAH seizes SIR TRISTRAM and talks to him rapidly._] [_To NOAH._] 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!

[_NOAH goes 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!

[_NOAH comes out of the cell with THE DEAN, who is in handcuffs._

GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.

Oh!

THE DEAN.

[_Raising his eyes, sees SIR TRISTRAM and GEORGIANA, 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. [_To THE 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.

[_To NOAH._] 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, GEORGIANA _and_ HANNAH.

Hush!

NOAH.

The Diseased De-an is the honly man wot can withdraw one charge----

THE DEAN.

I--listen!

SIR TRISTRAM, GEORGIANA _and_ HANNAH.

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 to THE DEAN._] I am disappointed in you, Angustin. Have you got this wretched woman's whistle?

THE DEAN.

Yes.

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Softly to THE 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. [_To GEORGIANA._] 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!

[_NOAH takes him by the arm and leads him out._

GEORGIANA.

Oh, what am I to think of my brother?

HANNAH.

[_Kneeling at GEORGIANA'S feet._] 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!

GEORGIANA _and_ SIR 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._

_SALOME and SHEBA are 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 to SALOME._] 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 as MAJOR TARVER and MR. DARBEY appear 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!

[_SALOME unfastens the window._

DARBEY.

[_Outside._] Thank you. Don't be shocked when you see Tarver.

_TARVER and DARBEY enter, dressed for the Races, but DARBEY is supporting TARVER, 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.

[_TARVER sinks into a chair._

DARBEY.

[_Standing by the side of TARVER._] 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 at SHEBA_] 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 approaching SALOME._] 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.

[_DARBEY follows SHEBA across 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 they _are_ married.

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 as TARVER and SALOME re-enter the room. TARVER is 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.

DARBEY _and_ TARVER.

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.

[_Pulling TARVER after 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 as GEORGIANA enters 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 TRISTRAM and HATCHAM enter by the window carrying THE 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 deposit THE DEAN in a chair and GEORGIANA and SIR TRISTRAM each seize a hand, feeling THE DEAN'S pulse, while HATCHAM puts his hand on THE DEAN'S heart._

THE DEAN.

[_Opening his eyes._] Where am I now?

GEORGIANA.

He lives! Hurrah! Cheer man, cheer!

SIR TRISTRAM _and_ HATCHAM

[_Quietly._] Hurrah! [_To HATCHAM._] We can't shout here; go and cheer as loudly as you can in the roadway by yourself.

HATCHAM.

Yes, Sir.

[_HATCHAM runs 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'S voice 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 to me," 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. [_Seizing THE DEAN by 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 as THE DEAN enters 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 of my dignity still tight in my grasp! What is this I have picked up on the stairs?

[_Reads with a horrified look, as HATCHAM enters at the window._

HATCHAM.

Beg pardon, Sir Tristram.

SIR TRISTRAM.

What is it?

HATCHAM.

The chemist has just brought the annal_i_sis.

SIR TRISTRAM.

Where is he?

[_SIR TRISTRAM and GEORGIANA go out at the window, following HATCHAM._

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!

SALOME _and_ SHEBA.

[_Bounding in and rushing at THE DEAN._] Papa, Papa!

SALOME.

Our own Papa!

SHEBA.

Papsey!

[_SALOME seizes his hands, SHEBA his 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."

SALOME _and_ SHEBA.

Oh!

[_SHEBA sits aghast on the table--SALOME distractedly 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?

[_SHEBA points to SALOME._

THE DEAN.

And a flower-girl of an unknown epoch. [_SALOME points to SHEBA._] 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.

[_Handing SHEBA the 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 as SIR TRISTRAM enters quickly at the window, followed by GEORGIANA, carrying the basin containing the bolus. SIR TRISTRAM has an opened letter in his hand._

SIR TRISTRAM.

Good heavens, Jedd! the analysis has arrived!

THE DEAN.

I am absolutely indifferent!

GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.

Indifferent!

THE DEAN.

[_To GEORGIANA._] How dare you confront me without even the semblance of a blush--you who have enabled my innocent babies, for the first time in their lives, to discharge one of their own accounts.

GEORGIANA.

There isn't a blush in our family--if there were, you'd want it.

[_SHEBA and SALOME appear outside the window, looking in._

SIR TRISTRAM.

Jedd, you were once my friend, and you are to be my relative.

THE DEAN.

[_Looking at GEORGIANA._] My sister! [_To SIR TRISTRAM._] I offer no opposition.

SIR TRISTRAM.

But not even our approaching family tie prevents my designating you as one of the most atrocious conspirators known in the history of the Turf.

THE DEAN.

Conspirator!

SIR TRISTRAM.

As the owner of one-half of Dandy Dick, I denounce you!

GEORGIANA.

As the owner of the other half, _I_ denounce you!

THE DEAN.

You!

_SHEBA and SALOME enter, and remain standing in the recess, listening._

SIR TRISTRAM.

The chief ingredient of your infernal preparation is known.

THE DEAN.

It contains nothing that I would not cheerfully administer to my own children.

GEORGIANA.

[_In horror._] Oh!

SIR TRISTRAM.

I believe you. [_Pointing to the paper._] Strychnine! Sixteen grains!

SALOME _and_ SHEBA.

[_Clinging to each other terrified._] Oh!

THE DEAN.

Strychnine! Summon my devoted servant Blore, in whose presence the innocuous mixture was compounded. [_GEORGIANA rings the bell. The girls hide behind the window curtains._] This analysis is simply the pardonable result of over-enthusiasm on the part of our local chemist.

GEORGIANA.

You're a disgrace to the pretty little police station where you slept last night!

[_BLORE enters and stands unnoticed._

THE DEAN.

I will prove that in the Deanery Stables the common laws of hospitality have never been transgressed. Give me the bowl! [_GEORGIANA hands THE DEAN the basin from the table._] A simple remedy for a chill.

GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.

Strychnine--sixteen grains!

THE DEAN.

I, myself, am suffering from the exposure of last night. [_Taking the remaining bolus and opening his mouth._] Observe me!

BLORE.

[_Rushing forward, snatching the basin from THE DEAN and sinking on to his knees._] No, no! Don't, don't! You wouldn't 'ang the holdest servant in the Deanery.

THE DEAN.

Blore!

BLORE.

I did it! I 'ad a honest fancy for Bonny Betsy, and I wanted this gentleman's 'orse out of the way. And while you was mixing the dose with the best ecclesiastical intentions, I hintroduced a foreign element.

THE DEAN.

[_Pulling BLORE up by his coat collar._] Viper!

BLORE.

Oh sir, it was hall for the sake of the Dean.

SIR TRISTRAM.

The Dean?

BLORE.

The dear Dean had only Fifty Pounds to spare for sporting purposes, and I thought a gentleman of 'is 'igh standing ought to have a certainty.

SIR TRISTRAM.

Jedd!

GEORGIANA.

Augustin!

THE DEAN.

I can conceal it no longer--I--I instructed this unworthy creature to back Dandy Dick on behalf of the Restoration Fund.

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Shaking BLORE._] And didn't you do it?

BLORE.

No.

THE DEAN.

Why not? In the name of that tottering Spire, why not?

BLORE.

Oh, sir, thinking as you'd given some of the mixture to Dandy I put your cheerful little offering on to Bonny Betsy.

[_SALOME and SHEBA disappear._

THE DEAN.

Oh! [_To BLORE._] I could have pardoned everything but this last act of disobedience. You are unworthy of the Deanery. Leave it for some ordinary household.

BLORE.

If I leave the Deanery, I shall give my reasons, and then what'll folks think of you and me in our old age?

THE DEAN.

You wouldn't spread this tale in St. Marvells?

BLORE.

Not if sober, sir--but suppose grief drove me to my cups?

THE DEAN.

I must save you from intemperance at any cost. Remain in my service--a sad, sober and, above all, a silent man!

[_SALOME and SHEBA appear as BLORE goes out through the window._

SALOME.

Papa!

THE DEAN.

To your rooms! I am distracted!

SALOME.

Major Tarver and Mr. Darbey!----

THE DEAN.

If you have sufficiently merged all sense of moral rectitude as to declare that I am not at home, do so.

SHEBA.

No, no. Papa; we have accidentally discovered that you, our parent, have stooped to deception, if not to crime.

THE DEAN.

[_Staggering back._] Oh!

SHEBA.

We are still young--the sooner, therefore, we are removed from any unfortunate influence the better.

SALOME.

We have an opportunity of beginning life afresh.

SHEBA.

These two gallant gentlemen have proposed for us.

THE DEAN.

Then I _am_ at home. Where are they?

[_He goes out rapidly, followed by SALOME and SHEBA. Directly they have disappeared, NOAH TOPPING, looking dishevelled, rushes in at the window, with HANNAH clinging to him._

NOAH.

[_Glaring round the room._] Is this 'ere the Deanery?

[_GEORGIANA and SIR TRISTRAM come to him._

HANNAH.

Noahry, Noah, come back!

NOAH.

Theer's been a man rescued from my lawful custody while my face was unofficially held downwards in the mud. The villain has been traced back to the Deanery.

SIR TRISTRAM.

Go away!

HANNAH.

Come away!

NOAH.

The man was a unknown lover of my nooly made wife!

GEORGIANA.

You mustn't bring your domestic affairs here; this is a subject for your own fireside of an evening.

[_THE DEAN appears outside the window with SALOME, SHEBA, TARVER and DARBEY._

THE DEAN.

[_Outside._] Come in, Major Tarver--come in, Mr. Darbey!

NOAH.

That's his voice!

_THE DEAN enters, followed by SALOME, TARVER, SHEBA and DARBEY._

NOAH.

[_Confronting THE DEAN._] My man.

HANNAH.

No, no, Noahry!

GEORGIANA.

You're speaking to Dr. Jedd, the Dean of St. Marvells.

NOAH.

I'm speaking to the man I took last night--the culprit as 'as allynated the affections of my wife.

SIR TRISTRAM.

Wait--one moment! [_Going out at the window._

[_SALOME and TARVER go into the Library and sit at the writing-table. DARBEY sits in an arm-chair with SHEBA on the arm._

THE DEAN.

[_Mildly._] Do not let us chide a man who is conscientious even in error. [_Looking at HANNAH._] I think I see Hannah Evans, once an excellent cook under this very roof.

HANNAH.

I'm Mrs. Topping now, sir--bride o' the constable. And oh, do forgive him--he's a mass o' ignorance.

NOAH.

Coom away!

[_HANNAH returns to NOAH. as SIR TRISTRAM re-enters with HATCHAM._

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_To HATCHAM._] Hatcham--[_pointing to THE DEAN_]--Is that the man you and the Constable secured in the stable last night?

HATCHAM.

That, sir! Bless your 'art, sir, that's the Dean 'imself.

SIR TRISTRAM.

That'll do.

HATCHAM.

[_To NOAH._] Why, our man was a short, thin individual!

[_HATCHAM goes out at the window._

THE DEAN.

[_To NOAH._] I trust you are perfectly satisfied.

NOAH.

[_Wiping his brow and looking puzzled._] I'm doon.

THE DEAN.

Don't trouble further. I withdraw unreservedly any charge against this unknown person found on my premises last night. I attribute to him the most innocent intentions. Hannah, you and your worthy husband will stay and dine in my kitchen. Good afternoon.

NOAH.

Is it a 'ot dinner?

THE DEAN.

Hot--with ale.

NOAH.

[_Turning angrily to HANNAH._] Now then, you don't know a real gentleman when you see one. Why don't 'ee thank the Dean warmly?

HANNAH.

[_Kissing THE DEAN'S hands with a curtsey._] Thank you, sir.

THE DEAN.

[_Benignly._] Go--go. I take a kindly interest in you both.

[_They back out, bowing and curtseying._

GEORGIANA.

Well, Gus, you're out of all your troubles. Are you happy?

THE DEAN.

Happy! My family influence gone forever--my dignity crushed out of all recognition--the genial summer of the Deanery frosted by the winter of Deceit.

GEORGIANA.

Ah, Gus, when once you lay the whip about the withers of the horse called Deception he takes the bit between his teeth, and only the devil can stop him--and he'd rather not. Shall I tell you who has been riding the horse hardest?

THE DEAN.

Who?

GEORGIANA.

The Dean.

THE DEAN.

Georgiana! I'm surprised at you.

[_SHEBA sits at the piano and plays a bright air softly--DARBEY standing behind her--SALOME and TARVER stand in the archway._

GEORGIANA.

[_Slapping THE DEAN on the back._] Look here, Augustin, George Tidd will lend you that thousand for the poor, innocent old Spire.

THE DEAN.

[_Taking her hand._] Oh, Georgiana!

GEORGIANA.

On one condition--that you'll admit there's no harm in our laughing at a Sporting Dean.

THE DEAN.

No, no--I cannot allow it!

GEORGIANA.

Tris! My brother Gus doesn't want us to be merry at his expense.

[_They both laugh._

THE DEAN.

[_Trying to silence them._] No, no! I forbid it! Hush!

SIR TRISTRAM.

Why, Jedd, there's no harm in laughter, for those who laugh or those who are laughed at.

GEORGIANA.

Provided always--firstly, that it is Folly that is laughed at and not Virtue; secondly, that it is our friends who laugh at us, [_to the audience_] as we hope they all will, for our pains.

THE END

_Transcriber's Note_

This transcription is based on the scan images posted by The Internet Archive at:

http://archive.org/details/dandydickplayint00pinerich

In addition, when there was a question about the printed text, another edition posted by The Internet Archive was consulted:

http://archive.org/details/dandydickplayint00pineiala

The following changes were made to the text:

- Throughout the text, dashes at the end of lines have been normalized.

- Throughout the text, "and" in the character titles preceding dialogue has been italicized consistently and names in stage directions have been consistently either capitalized (in the text version) or set in small caps (in the html version).

- In the Introductory Note, “St. Marvells” has an apostrophe, whereas in the text of the play it almost always does not. The inconsistency has been allowed to stand in the Introductory Note, but the apostrophe has been removed in the few instances in the text.

- Pg. 25: "_THE DEAN gives DARBEY a severe look..._"--A bracket has been added to the beginning of this line.

- Pg. 97: "No, Aunt, No!"--The second "No" has been changed to lower case.

- Pg. 139: "Oh, what do you think of it. Mr. Darbey?"--The period after "it" has been changed to a comma.

- Pg. 141: "We can't shout here, go and cheer..."--The comma has been changed to a semicolon.

- Pg. 142: "That's Hatcham, I'll raise his wages."--The comma has been changed to a semicolon.

- Pg. 143: "'aint" has been changed to "ain't".

- Pg. 147: "...mutual esteem, last night..."--The comma has been changed to a semicolon.

- Pg. 154: "I did it?" has been changed to "I did it!"

The html version of this etext attempts to reproduce the layout of the printed text. However, some concessions have been made, particularly in the handling of stage directions enclosed by brackets on at least one side. (Entrances were usually without brackets.) In general, the stage directions were typeset in the printed text as follows:

- Before and within dialogue.

- Flush right, on the same line as the end of dialogue if there was enough space; on the next line, if there was not.

- If the stage directions were two lines, they were indented from the left margin as hanging paragraphs. How much the stage directions were indented varied.

In the etext, all stage directions not before or within dialogue are placed on the next line, indented the same amount from the left margin, and coded as hanging paragraphs.