Part 30 (1/2)

[_Laying the notes on the table._] I found these, sir, on your dressing-table--they're bank-notes, sir.

THE DEAN.

[_Taking the notes._] Thank you. I placed them there to be sent to the Bank to-morrow. [_Counting the notes._] Ten--ten--twenty--five--five, fifty. Fifty pounds! The very sum Georgiana urged me to--oh! [_To BLORE, waving him away._] Leave me--go to bed--go to bed--go to bed!

[_BLORE is going._] Blore!

BLORE.

Sir?

THE DEAN.

What made you tempt me with these at such a moment?

BLORE.

Temp' you, sir! The window was hopen, and I feared they might blow away.

THE DEAN.

[_Catching him by the coat collar._] Man, what were you doing at St.

Marvells Races last summer?

BLORE.

[_With a cry, falling on his knees._] Oh, sir! Oh, sir! I knew that 'igh-sperited lady would bring grief and sorrow to the peaceful, 'appy Deanery! Oh, sir, I _'ave_ done a little on my hown account from time to time on the 'ill, halso hon commission for the kitchen!

THE DEAN.

I knew it--I knew it!

BLORE.

Oh, sir, you are a old gentleman--turn a charitable 'art to the Races!

It's a wicious inst.i.tution what spends more ready money in St.

Marvells than us good people do in a year.

THE DEAN.

Get up, Blore--get up. Oh, Edward Blore, Edward Blore, what weak creatures we are!

BLORE.

We are, sir--we are--'specially when we've got a tip, sir. Think of the temptation of a tip, sir.

THE DEAN.

I do, Blore--I do.