Part 54 (1/2)

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 doc.u.ment. [_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.