Part 12 (2/2)

THE DEAN.

In time! Well, but--Georgiana!

[_The gate bell is heard again, the girls re-enter._

GEORGIANA.

There's a visitor. I'll tootle upstairs and have a groom down. [_To SALOME and SHEBA._] Make the running, girls. At what time do we feed, Augustin?

THE DEAN.

There is luncheon at one o'clock.

GEORGIANA.

Right. The air here is so fresh I sha'n't be sorry to get my nose-bag on.

[_She stalks out, accompanied by the girls._

THE DEAN.

My sister, Georgiana--my widowed sister, Georgiana. Dear me, I am quite disturbed. Surely, surely the serene atmosphere of the Deanery will work a change. It must! It must! If not, what a grave mistake I have made. Good gracious! No, no, I won't think of it! Still, it is a little unfortunate that poor Georgiana should arrive here on the very eve of these terrible races at St. Marvells.

_BLORE enters with a card._

THE DEAN.

Who is it, Blore? [_Reading the card._] ”Sir Tristram Mardon.” Dear, dear! Certainly, Blore, certainly. [_BLORE goes out._] Mardon--why, Mardon and I haven't met since Oxford.

[_BLORE re-enters, showing in SIR TRISTRAM MARDON, a well-preserved man of about fifty, with a ruddy face and jovial manner, the type of the thorough English sporting gentleman. BLORE goes out._

SIR TRISTRAM.

Hullo, Jedd, how are you?

THE DEAN.

My dear Mardon--are we boys again?

SIR TRISTRAM.

[_Boisterously._] Of course we are! Boys again!

[_He hits THE DEAN violently in the chest._

THE DEAN.

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