Part 52 (1/2)
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 gla.s.ses 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 a.s.sent, 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 n.o.ble in true English sport after all?
THE DEAN.
Every abused inst.i.tution 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 d.i.c.k!
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.