Part 20 (1/2)

SALOME.

If we had known Aunt a little longer we might have confided in her and taken her with us.

SHEBA.

Poor Aunt--we mustn't spoil her.

DARBEY.

[_Speaking outside._] I venture to differ with you, my dear Dean.

GEORGIANA.

Here come the wax-works!

[_She joins the girls as DARBEY enters through the Library, patronizing THE DEAN, who accompanies him._

DARBEY.

Haw! I've just been putting the Dean right about a little army question, Mrs.--Mrs.---- I can't catch your name.

GEORGIANA.

Don't try--you'd come out in spots, like measles.

[DARBEY _stands by her, blankly, then attempts a conversation._

THE DEAN.

[_To SALOME and SHEBA._] Children, it is useless to battle against it much longer.

SALOME.

Against what, Papa?

THE DEAN.

A feeling of positive distaste for Mr. Darbey.

SHEBA.

Oh, Papsey--think what Wellington was at his age.

_MAJOR TARVER enters, pale and haggard._

_SALOME meets him._

SALOME.

Major!