Dandy Dick, by A. W. Pinero

A PLAY IN THREE ACTS

By

ARTHUR W. PINERO

AUTHOR OF “SWEET LAVENDER,” “THE TIMES,” “THE CABINET MINISTER,” “LADY BOUNTIFUL,” ETC.

INTRODUCTORY NOTE.

“Dandy Dick” was the third of the farces which Mr. Pinero wrote for the old Court Theatre—a series of plays which, besides giving playgoers a fresh source of laughter, and the English stage a new order of comic play, brought plentiful prosperity to the joint management of Mr. Arthur Cecil and the late Mr. John Clayton. But a kind of melancholy interest attaches to “Dandy Dick,” for this play was, as it were, the swan-song of the old theatre and of the Clayton and Cecil partnership; and it was the piece in which Mr. Clayton was acting when death overtook him, to the general grief.

The production of “Dandy Dick” may be considered as something of a tour de force in its way. “The Schoolmistress” was at the end of its successful run, and Mr. Pinero was under contract to supply its successor by a certain date, when Mr. Clayton one day went down to Brighton, where the dramatist was then at work, to hear him read the two completed acts of the new play. To Mr. Clayton’s consternation, however, Mr. Pinero announced that he was dissatisfied with his work, and proposed to begin an entirely new play, as he had a more promising[Pg 6] idea. But time was pressing, and a successor to “The Schoolmistress” was an immediate necessity. However, Mr. Pinero’s idea of writing a play round a dean, who, while being a paragon of dignity and decorum, should be driven by an indiscreet act into a most undignified dilemma, appealed to Mr. Clayton, and hastening back to London with the sketches for the requisite scenes, he left Mr. Pinero to set to work at once upon the new scheme. And within a few weeks, indeed by the time the scenery was ready, the new play was completed, the rural constable of a village adjacent to Brighton having suggested the character of Noah Topping.

“Dandy Dick” was produced at the Court Theatre on January 27th, 1887, and, meeting with a most favorable initial reception, it settled down immediately into a complete success. The following is a copy of the first-night programme:—

Scene 1:—“The Strong Box,” St. Marvell’s.
Scene 2.—The Deanery again.

Preceded, at Eight o’clock, by
“THE NETTLE.”
An Original Comedietta by ERNEST WARREN.

“Dandy Dick” was performed 171 times between the first night and the 22d of July, when, the old theatre being demolished, Mr. Clayton took a temporary lease of Toole’s Theatre, and transferred the play thither, where it ran 75 nights more.

A company had already been sent out, under the auspices of the Court management, to perform “Dandy Dick” in the provinces; but, when the play was withdrawn from the London boards, Mr. Clayton set out himself with a company, and it was during this tour that he died at Liverpool.

In America Mr. Daly produced “Dandy Dick” with Miss Ada Rehan in Mrs. John Wood’s part, but no very great success was achieved; whereas in Australia its reception was so enthusiastic that it[Pg 9] ran for quite an unusual time both in Melbourne and Sydney. In the character of the Dean, Mr. G. W. Anson achieved perhaps the greatest of his Australian successes, and Mr. Robert Brough made his mark as the policeman.

DANDY DICK.

THE FIRST ACT.

The morning-room in the Deanery of St. Marvells, with a large arched opening leading to the library on the right, and a deeply-recessed window opening out to the garden on the left. It is a bright spring morning, and an air of comfort and serenity pervades the place.

Salome, a tall, handsome, dark girl, of about three-and-twenty, is sitting with her elbows resting on her knees, staring wildly into vacancy. Sheba, a fair little girl of about seventeen, wearing short petticoats, shares her despondency, and lies prostrate upon the settee.

It’s worse than that! It’s a scrape! How did you ever get led into it?[Pg 12]

It was Major Tarver’s proposal, and I believe, Salome, that it is to you Major Tarver is paying attention.

The Fancy Dress Masked Ball at Durnstone is promoted by the Officers of the Hussars. I believe that the young gentleman you have impressed calls himself an officer, though he is merely a lieutenant.

[Indignantly.] Mr. Darbey is certainly an officer—a small officer. How dare you gird at me, Salome?

Very well, then. When to-night we appear at the Durnstone Athenæum, unknown to dear Papa, on the arms of Major Tarver and Mr. Darbey, I consider that we shall be equally wicked. Oh, how can we be so wrong?

Well, we’re not wrong yet. We’re only going to be wrong; that’s a very different matter.

That’s true. Besides, there’s this to remember—we’re inexperienced girls and have only dear Papa. But oh, now that the Ball is to-night, I repent, Sheba, I repent!

I sha’n’t do that till to-morrow. But oh, how I shall repent to-morrow![Pg 13]

[Taking an envelope from her pocket, and almost crying.] You’d repent now if you had seen the account for the fancy dresses.

Yes, the Major enclosed it to me this morning. You know, Sheba, Major Tarver promised to get the dresses made in London, so I gave him our brown paper patterns to send to the costumier.

Well, of course Major Tarver begged to be allowed to pay for the dresses, and I said I couldn’t dream of permitting it, and then he said he should be most unhappy if he didn’t, and, just as I thought he was going to have his own way, [bursting into tears] he cheered up and said he’d yield to a lady. [Taking a large account from the envelope.] And oh! he’s yielded.

[Reading.] “Debtor to Lewis Isaacs, Costumier to the Queen, Bow Street. One gown—period French Revolution, 1798—Fifteen guineas!”

[Reading.] “One skirt and bodice—flower girl—period uncertain—Ten guineas.”

“Trimmings, linings, buttons, frillings—Five guineas! Extras, Two guineas. Total, Forty pounds, nineteen. Ladies’ own brown paper patterns mislaid. Terms, Cash!”

If we were only a few years older I should suggest that we wrote nice notes to Papa and committed suicide.

We must get dear Papa in a good humor and coax him to make us a present of money. He knows we haven’t been charitable in the town for ever so long.

Poor dear Papa! He hasn’t paid our proper dressmaker’s bill yet, and I’m sure he’s pressed for money.

Then we must play the piano when he’s at work on his Concordance—poor dear Papa!

However, don’t let us wrong poor Papa in advance. Let us try to think how nice we shall look.

Oh, I shall! And as for stealing out of the house with Major Tarver when poor dear Papa has gone to bed, why, Gerald Tarver would die for me!

[Blore, the butler, a venerable-looking person, with rather a clerical suggestion about his dress, enters by the window.

Yes. [Looking out at window.] Here they are! How well Gerald Tarver dismounts! Oh!

[They run off through the Library. Blore shows in Major Tarver and Mr. Darbey, who are both in regimentals. Major Tarver is a middle-aged, tall, angular officer, with a thin face, yellow complexion, and red eyes. He is alternately in a state of great excitement and depression. Mr. Darbey is a mere boy, but with a pompous, patronizing manner.

[Salome and Sheba walk in together. Salome has her arm round her sister’s waist and looks up to her with a sweet, trusting smile. They start in confusion on seeing Tarver and Darbey.

[To Salome.] We thought we’d ride over directly after parade to make the final arrangements for tonight. Have the costumes arrived?

Yes, they came yesterday in a hamper labeled “Miss Jedd, Secretary, Cast-off Clothing Distribution League.”[Pg 21]

Dear Major Tarver, surely this terrible strain on your nerves is very, very bad for you with your—your——

It is frightfully injurious. Of course I’m excited now, and you see me at my best, but the alternating fits of hopeless despondency are shocking to witness and to endure!

Never. Oh, Miss Jedd, my forgetfulness has brought me—one of my—terrible attacks—of depression!

[She leads him to a chair into which he sinks in a ghastly state. Darbey strolls in from the Library with Sheba.

[To Sheba.] Your remarks about the army are extremely complimentary. On behalf of the army I thank you. We fellows are not a bad sort, take us all round.[Pg 22]

[To Salome.] Thanks, the attack has passed. Now about to-night; at what time is the house entirely quiet?

Poor dear Papa goes round with Blore at half-past nine—after that all is rest and peacefulness.

[To Sheba.] Some of us army men can slave too. Tarver’s queer livah has thrown all the arrangements for the Fancy Ball on my shoulders. [Salome and Tarver re-enter.] Look at him—that’s when he’s enjoying life!

[Taking Salome’s hand.] Thank you, dear Miss Jedd, with the least suggestion of cayenne pepper in it.

[They all collect themselves in a fluster. The two girls go to meet their father, who enters at the window with his head bowed and his hands behind his back, in deep thought. The Dean is a portly man of about fifty, with a dignified demeanor, a suave voice and persuasive manner, and a noble brow surmounted by silver-gray hair. Blore follows The Dean, carrying some books, a small bunch of flowers, and an umbrella.

[To Salome.] Salome! [To Sheba.] My toy-child! [He draws the girls to him and embraces them, then sees Tarver and Darbey.] Dear me! Strangers!

[Reproachfully, taking his hat from him.] Papa! Major Tarver and Mr. Darbey have ridden over from Durnstone to ask how your cold is.

[Sheba takes the gold-rimmed pince-nez which hangs upon The Dean’s waistcoat and places it before his eyes.

Darbey! How good of you! [With his girls still embracing him he extends a hand to each of the men.] My cold is better. [Blore goes out through the Library.] Major—Mr. Garvey—these inquiries strike me as being so kind that I insist—no, no, I beg that you will share our simple dinner with us to-night at six o’clock![Pg 25]

[Looking to Salome.] Well, I—ah—[Salome nods her head to him violently.] That is, certainly, Dean, certainly.

[The Dean gives Darbey a severe look, and with an important cough walks into the Library. The men and the girls speak in undertones.

Why, don’t you see, as you will have to drive over to dine, you will both be here, on the spot, ready to take us back to Durnstone?

Of course; when we’re turned out we can hang about in the lane till you’re ready.

Yes, but when are we to make our preparations? It’ll take me a long time to look like Charles the First!

That was my idea—Charles the Martyr, you know. Tarver’s a martyr to his liver—see?

[They are all in a state of great excitement when The Dean re-enters, with an anxious look, carrying a bundle of papers.

At six, punctually. Salome, represent me by escorting these gentlemen to the gate. [Salome, Tarver, and Darbey go out. Sheba is following slyly when The Dean looks up from his papers.] Sheba!

Check me in a growing tendency to dislike Mr. Garvey. At dinner, Sheba, watch that I carve for him fairly.

[The Dean turns away and sits on the settee. Sheba, with her head down and her hands folded, walks towards the door, and then bounds out.

[Turning the papers over in his hand, solemnly.] Bills! [He rises, walks thoughtfully to a chair, sits[Pg 28] and examines papers again.] Bills! [He rises again, walks to another chair, and sinks into it with a groan.] Bills!

A beautiful opportunity to ask for that little present of money. Poor dear Papa!

[He rises, the girls rush to him, and laughing with joy they turn him like a top, dancing round him.

[They force him into a chair. Salome sits on the ground embracing his legs, Sheba lies on the top of the table.

Oh dear, oh dear! Your wants are very little ones. What are they, Salome? What are they, toy-child?[Pg 29]

Ha! ha! I am glad, really glad, children, that you have broken through a reserve which has existed on this point for at least a fortnight—and babbled for money.

It gives me the opportunity of meeting your demands with candor. Children, I have love for you, solicitude for you, but—I have no spare cash for anybody.

[He rises and walks gloomily across to the piano, on the top of which he commences to arrange his bills. In horror Salome scrambles up from the floor, and Sheba wriggles off the table. Simultaneously they drop on to the same chair and huddle together.

And now you have so cheerily opened the subject, let me tell you with equal good humor [emphatically flourishing the bills] that this sort of thing must be put a stop to. Your dressmaker’s bill is shocking; your milliner gives an analytical record of the feverish beatings of the hot pulse of fashion; your general draper blows a rancorous blast which would bring dismay to the stoutest heart. Let me for once peal out a deep paternal bass to your childish treble and say emphatically—I’ve had enough of it!

[Through her tears.] We’ve been brought up as young ladies—that can’t be done for nothing!

My girls, it is such unbosomings as this which preserve the domestic unison of a family. Weep, howl, but listen. The total of these weeds which spring up in the beautiful garden of paternity is a hundred and fifty-six, eighteen, three. Now, all the money I can immediately command is considerably under five hundred pounds.

Hush! But read, Salome, read aloud this paragraph in “The Times” of yesterday. There, my child.

[He hands a copy of “The Times” to Salome with his finger upon a paragraph.

[Reading.] “A Munificent Offer. Dr. Jedd, the Dean of St. Marvells, whose anxiety for the preservation of the Minister Spire threatens to undermine his health, has subscribed the munificent sum of one thousand pounds to the Restoration Fund.” [Indignantly.] Oh!

[Reading.] “On condition that seven other donors come forward, each with the like sum.”

[The two girls cling to each other as Blore comes from the Library with two letters on a salver.

[Hearing Salome and Sheba crying.] They’ve ’ad a scolding, ’ussies. Let ’em ’ang that on the ’atstand!

[Opening letters.] Oh, Blore! This note from Mr. Hodder, the Secretary of “The Sport and Relaxation Repression Guild,” reminds me that to-morrow is the first day of the Races—the St. Marvells Spring Meeting, as it is called.[Pg 33]

All our servants may not resemble you, Blore. Pray remind them in the kitchen and the stable of the rule of the house——

No servant allowed to leave the Deanery, on hany pretence, while the Races is on.

Thank you, sir. [To himself.] Oh, if the Dean only knew the good thing I could put him on to for the Durnstone Handicap!

Good gracious! Georgiana and I reconciled after all these years! She will help us to keep the expenses down.

[Embracing his daughters.] A second mother to my girls. She will implant the precepts of retrenchment if their father cannot!

My dears—a mournful, miserable history! [With his head bent he walks to a chair, and holds out his hands to the girls, who go to him and kneel at his feet.] When you were infants your Aunt Georgiana married an individual whose existence I felt it my sad duty never to recognize.[Pg 35]

He died ten years ago, and, therefore, we will say a misguided man. He was a person who bred horses to run in races for amusement combined with profit. He was also what is called a Gentleman Jockey, and it was your aunt’s wifely boast that if ever he vexed her she could take a stone off his weight in half an hour. In due course his neck was dislocated.

Left a widow, you would think it natural that Georgiana Tidman would have flown to her brother, himself a widower. Not at all. Maddened, I hope, by grief, she continued the career of her misguided husband, and for years, to use her own terrible words, she was “the Daisy of the Turf.”

I don’t know, toy-child. But at length retribution came. Ill luck fell upon her—her horses, stock, everything, came to the hammer. That was my hour. “Come to me,” I wrote, “my children yearn for you.”[Pg 36]

“At the Deanery of St. Marvells, with the cares of a household, and a stable which contains only a thirteen-year-old pony, you may obtain rest and forgetfulness.” And she is coming!

Salome, Sheba, you will, I fear, find her a sad broken creature, a weary fragment, a wave-tossed derelict. Let it be your patient endeavor to win back a flickering smile to the wan features of this chastened widow.

Good gracious! Bless me! Girls, your Aunt Georgiana slept at the “Wheatsheaf,” at Durnstone, last night, and is coming on this morning!

Salome, child, you and I will drive into Durnstone—we may be in time to bring your Aunt over. My hat, Sheba! Quick! [The clang of the gate bell is heard in the distance.] The bell! [Looking out of window.] No—yes—it can’t be! [Speaking in an altered voice.] Children! I wonder if this is your Aunt Georgiana?

Georgiana Tidman enters. She is a jovial, noisy woman, very “horsey” in manners and appearance, and dressed in pronounced masculine style, with billy cock hat and coaching coat. The girls cling to each other; The Dean recoils.

[Patting The Dean’s cheeks.] You’re putting on too much flesh, Augustin; they should give you a ten-miler daily in a blanket.

Are these your two-year-olds? [To Salome.] Kiss your Aunt! [She kisses Salome with a good hearty smack.] [To Sheba.] Kiss your Aunt! [She embraces Sheba, then stands between the two girls and surveys them critically, touching them alternately with the end of her cane.] Lord bless you both! What names do you run under?

[Looking at Sheba.] Why, little ’un, your stable companion could give you a stone and then get her nose in front!

[Who has been impatiently fuming.] Georgiana, I fear these poor innocents don’t follow your well-intentioned but inappropriate illustrations.

Oh, we’ll soon wake ’em up. Well, Augustin, my[Pg 39] boy, it’s nearly twenty years since you and I munched our corn together.

Since then we’ve both run many races, though we’ve never met in the same events. The world has ridden us both pretty hard at times, Gus, hasn’t it? We’ve been punished and pulled and led down pretty often, but here we are [tapping him sharply in the chest with her cane] sound in the wind yet. You’re doing well, Gus, and they say you’re going up the hill neck-and-neck with your Bishop. I’ve dropped out of it—the mares don’t last, Gus—and it’s good and kind of you to give me a dry stable and a clean litter, and to keep me out of the shafts of a “Shrewsbury and Talbot.”

[In a whisper to Salome.] Salome, I don’t quite understand her—but I like Aunt.

My dear Georgiana, I rejoice that you meet me in this affectionate spirit, and when—pardon me—when you have a little caught the tone of the Deanery——

Oh, I’ll catch it; if I don’t the Deanery will a little catch my tone—the same thing.

I am George Tidd—that was my racing name. Ask after George Tidd at Newmarket—they’ll tell you all about me. My colors were crimson and black diamonds. There you are.

[Tapping the handkerchief.] I understand distinctly from your letter that all this is finally abandoned?

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?

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.

Who is it, Blore? [Reading the card.] “Sir Tristram Mardon.” Dear, dear! Certainly, Blore,[Pg 42] 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.

[Breathing heavily—to himself.] I quite forgot how rough Mardon used to be. How it all comes back to me!

I’m still a bachelor—got terribly jilted by a woman years ago and have run in blinkers ever since. Can’t be helped, can it? You’re married, aren’t you?

Oh lor’! awfully sorry—can’t be helped though, can it? [Seizing The Dean’s hand and squeezing it.] Forgive me, old chap.

Ha! ha! Never had an ache in my life; sha’n’t come and hear you preach next Sunday, Gus.

Think it over. You’ve seen the list of Starters for the Durnstone Handicap——?

Not! Look here! Sir Tristram Mardon’s Dandy Dick, nine stone two, Tom Gallawood up! What do you think of that?

[Digging The Dean in the ribs.] Look out for my colors—black and white, and a pink cap—first past the post to-morrow.

[Taking The Dean’s arm and walking him about.] Do you imagine, sir, for one moment, that Bonny Betsy, with a boy on her back, can get down that bill with those legs of hers?[Pg 45]

No, a bay mare. George Tidd knew what she was about when she stuck to Dandy Dick to the very last.

My dear Mardon, I am of course heartily pleased to revive in this way our old acquaintance. I wish it were in my power to offer you the hospitality of the Deanery—but——

Don’t name it. My horse and I are over the way at “The Swan.” Come and look at Dandy Dick!

Oh, I see, Jedd. I beg your pardon. You mean that the colors you ride in don’t show up well on the hill yonder or in the stable of the “Swan” Inn.[Pg 46]

I remember that in your young days you made the heaviest book on the Derby of any of our fellows.

I remember that you once matched a mare of your own against another of Lord Beckslade’s for fifty pounds!

[Shaking his head sorrowfully.] Oh Jedd, Jedd—other times, other manners. Good-bye, old boy.

[Taking The Dean’s hand.] Offended! No—only sorry, Dean, damned sorry, to see a promising lad come to an end like this. [Georgiana enters with Salome on one side of her and Sheba on the other—all three laughing and chatting, apparently the best of friends.] By Jove! No! what—Tidd?

Of all places in the world, to find “Mr. Tidd!” [Roaring with laughter.] Ho! ho! ho![Pg 47]

Yes, I’ve been running a bit dark, Mardon, but that stout, well-seasoned animal over there and this skittish creature come of the same stock and were foaled in the same stable. [Pointing to Salome and Sheba.] There are a couple of yearlings here, you don’t know. My nieces—Salome and Sheba.[Pg 48]

[Bowing.] How do you do? [Heartily taking Georgiana’s hand again.] Well, I don’t care whose sister you are, but I’m jolly glad to see you, George, my boy.

[In horror.] Salome, Sheba, children! I must speak to you. Excuse me, Mardon. [To himself.] Oh, what shall I do with my widowed sister?

Is he? Well, then, you just lay a thousand sovereigns to a gooseberry that in this house I’m a Dean, too!

Lord bless your heart, they’re all right when you cheer them up a bit! If I’m here till the autumn meeting you’ll find me lunching on the hill, with the Canons marking my card and the dear old Bishop mixing the salad. So say the word, Tris—I’ll make it all right with Augustin.

No, thanks, old fellow. The fact is I’m fixed at the “Swan” with—what do you think, George?—with Dandy Dick.

I brought him down with me in lavender. You know he runs for the Durnstone Handicap to-morrow.

Know! There’s precious little that horse does that I don’t know, and what I don’t know I dream. Is he fit?

As a fiddle—shines like a mirror—not an ounce too much or too little. He’ll romp in![Pg 50]

No—I’ve only a half share. At your sale he was knocked down to John Fielder the trainer. The other half belongs to John.

Yes, directly I saw Dandy Dick marched out before the auctioneer I asked John Fielder to help me, and he did, like a Briton. For I can’t live without horseflesh, if it’s only a piece of cat’s meat on a skewer. But when I condescended to keep company with the Canons and the Bishop here I promised Augustin that I wouldn’t own anything on four legs, so John sold you half of Dick, and I can swear I don’t own a horse—and I don’t—not a whole one. But half a horse is better than no bread, Tris—and we’re partners.

[Still laughing.] I—ho! ho!—I beg your pardon, George—ha! ha! Well, now you know he’s fit, of course, you’re going to back Dandy Dick for the Durnstone Handicap.

Back him! For every penny I’ve got in the world. That isn’t much, but if I’m not a richer woman by a thousand pounds to-morrow night I shall have had a bad day.

Good-morning, partner! [Sir Tristram bursts out laughing again, she joining in the laughter.] Oh, do be quiet!

Ho! ho! ho! Ha! ha! Oh, say good-bye for me to the Dean! [She gives him a push and he goes out.

Why, you’re shivering all over. [Catching hold of Sheba.] Hallo, little ’un!

Aunt—dear Aunt Georgiana—we heard you say something about a thousand pounds.

No—we only merely heard. And, oh, Aunt, a thousand pounds is such a lot, and we poor girls want such a little.[Pg 53]

Well, I’m in debt too, but I only meant to beg for Salome; but now I ask for both of us. Oh, Aunt Tidman, papa has told us that you have known troubles.

Oh, I’m so glad. Because Salome and I are weary fragments too—we’re everything awful but chastened widows. We owe forty pounds unknown to Pa!

But we’ve only got fifteen and threepence of our own in the world! And, oh, Aunt, you know something about the Races, don’t you?

If you do, help two poor creatures to win forty pounds, nineteen. Aunt Georgiana, what’s “Dandy Dick” you were talking to that gentleman about?

You will! [She embraces them heartily.] Bless your little innocent faces! Do you want to win forty pounds?

[Taking her betting book from her pocket.] Very well, then, put your very petticoats on Dandy Dick!

THE SECOND ACT.

The morning-room at the Deanery, with the fire and the lamps lighted. It is after dinner.

Sheba is playing the piano, Salome lolling upon the settee, and Georgiana pouring out tea. They are in evening dress.

Sugar, Sally? I call you Sally, Salome—the evening’s too short for your name.

H’m! Now I understand why my foot was always in the way under the dinner-table.

Yes, and then the servant handed him a dish and he shied at it. So we lost that.

Upon a frightfully jolly dinner. [Taking her betting book from her pocket.] Excuse me, girls. I’ve[Pg 59] some figures to work out. If Dandy Dick hasn’t fed better at the “Swan” than we have at the Deanery, he won’t be in the first three. [Reckoning.] Let me see.

[To Salome.] Yes—everything. Directly the house is silent we let ourselves out at the front door.

By this window. It has a patent safety fastening, so it can be opened with a hairpin.

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

[She joins the girls as Darbey enters through the Library, patronizing The Dean, who accompanies him.

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

[To Salome and Sheba.] Children, it is useless to battle against it much longer.

Oh, I suppose I should pack up a few charcoal biscuits and toddle out, you know.

The Turf Guide—beg pardon. I mean, the Army keeps a string of trained nurses, doesn’t it?

Certainly. I was wondering whether your Colonel will send one with a perambulator to fetch you at about half-past eight.

I’m rather anxious for the post to bring to-day’s “Times.” You know I’ve offered a thousand pounds to our Restoration Fund.

[Jumping up excitedly—to Salome.] Eh? Oh, certainly—delighted! [Singing to himself.] “Come into the garden, Maud, for the black bat——”

I’m always dreadfully excited when I’m asked to sing. It’s as good as a carbonate of soda lozenge to me to be asked to sing. [To Blore.] My music is in my overcoat pocket.

[Blore goes out. The Dean dozes in a chair. Salome and Sheba talk to Georgiana at the table.

[To himself.] He always presumes with his confounded fiddle when I’m going to entertain. He knows that his fiddle’s never hoarse and that I am, sometimes.

[To himself.] Tarver always tries to cut me out with his elderly Chest C. He ought to put it on the Retired List.

[He walks into the Library and is heard trying his voice, singing “Come into the garden, Maud.”

[To himself.] He needn’t bother himself. While he was dozing in the carriage I threw his music out of the window.

Blore re-enters, carrying a violin-case and a leather music roll. Darbey takes the violin-case, opens it, and produces his violin and music. Blore hands the music roll to Tarver and goes out.

[To Salome, trembling with excitement.] My tones are like a beautiful bell this evening. I’m so glad, for all our sakes. [As he takes the leather music roll from Blore.] Thank you, that’s it.

“Come into the garden, Maud.” I’ve begun with “Corne into the garden, Maud” for years and years. [He opens the music roll—it is empty.] Oh! Miss Jedd, I’ve forgotten my music!

My mother says that my bowing is something like Joachim’s, and she ought to know.

[To herself.] Well, after all, George, my boy, you’re not stabled in such a bad box! Here is a regular pure, simple, English Evening at Home![Pg 65]

[Mumbling to himself.] A thousand pounds to the Restoration Fund and all those bills to settle—oh dear! oh dear! What shall I do?

[To himself—glaring at Darbey.] I feel I should like to garrote him with his bass string.

[Frowning at her betting book.] I think I shall hedge a bit over the Crumbleigh Stakes.

[As he plays, glancing at Tarver.] I wonder how old Tarver’s Chest C likes a holiday.

[As she plays.] We must get Pa to bed early. Dear Papa’s always so dreadfully in the way.

[Looking around.] No—there’s nothing like it in any other country. A regular, pure, simple, English Evening at Home!

Blore enters quickly, cutting “The Times” with a paper-knife as he enters.

[Taking the paper from Blore.] This is my fault—there may be something in “The Times” of special interest to me. Thank you, Blore.

Children! Georgiana! Friends! My munificent offer has produced the desired result.

Seven wealthy people, including three brewers, have come forward with a thousand pounds apiece in aid of the restoration of the Minster Spire!

Yes. [Reading.] “The anxiety to which The Dean of St. Marvells has so long been a victim will now doubtless be relieved.” [With his hand to his head.] I suppose I shall feel the relief to-morrow.

It is a little out of repair—but hardly sufficiently so to warrant the presumptuous interference of three brewers. Excuse me, I think I’ll enjoy the fresh air for a moment. [He goes to the window and draws back the curtains—a bright red glare is seen in the sky.] Bless me! Look there!

[Uttering a loud screech.] The Swan Inn! [Madly.] You girls, get me a hat and coat. Somebody fetch me a pair of boots!

I’m not. George Tidd’s a man, every inch of her! [Sir Tristram rushes in breathlessly. Georgiana rushes at him and clutches his coat.] Tris Mardon, speak!

[She sinks into a chair. Tarver and Darbey with Salome and Sheba stand looking out of the window.

The less weight for him to carry to-morrow. [Beginning to cry.] Dear old Dandy, he never was much to look at.

The worst of it is, the fools threw two pails of cold water over him to put it out.

A living example to a Dean. [The Dean goes distractedly into the Library.] Where is the animal?

My man Hatcham is running him up and down the lane here to try to get him warm again.

[Takes off his coat and throws it over Georgiana’s shoulders.] George, you’re a brick!

A brick, am I? [Quietly to him.] One partner pulls Dandy out of the Swan—t’other one leads Dandy into the Deanery. Quits, my lad!

What is happening to me! It will be in all the sporting papers. “Sir Tristram Mardon’s Dandy Dick reflected great credit upon the Deanery Stables!” “The Sporting Dean!”

[He walks into the Library, where he sinks into a chair, as Salome, Tarver, Darbey and Sheba come from the window.

They’re getting the flames under. If I had had my goloshes with me I should have been here, there, and everywhere.

Where there’s a crowd of Civilians the Military exercise a wise discretion in restraining themselves.[Pg 72]

[To Tarver and Darbey.] You had better go now; then we’ll get the house quiet as soon as possible. Poor Papa looks worried.

[Blore goes out, followed by Sheba, Salome, and Tarver. Darbey is going, when he returns to The Dean.

By-the-bye, my dear Dean—come over and see me. We ought to know more of each other. Say Monday.

Any time you like. Oh—and I say—let me know when you preach, and I’ll get some of our fellows to give their patronage!

[Closing the door after him with a bang.] Another moment—another moment—and I fear I should have been violently rude to him, a guest under my roof! [He walks up to the fireplace and stands looking into the fire, as Darbey, having forgotten his violin, returns to the room.] Oh, Blore, now understand me, if that Mr. Darbey ever again presumes to present himself at the Deanery I will not see him!

Don’t be down, Tris, my boy; cheer up, lad, he’ll be fit yet, bar a chill! Aha! he knew me, he knew me when I kissed his dear old nose![Pg 74]

He’s no fool. He knows he’s in the Deanery too. Did you see him cast up his eyes and lay his ears back when I led him in?

I jest run round to tell you that Dandy is a feedin’ as steady as a baby with a bottle.

Not me, mum. And I’ve got hold of the constable ’ere, Mr. Topping—he’s going to sit up with me, for company’s sake.

Yes, Sir Tristram. [Coming forward mysteriously.] Why, bless you and the lady, sir—supposin’ the fire at the “Swan” warn’t no accident!

He ’asn’t found out about ’is tail yet, sir, and when he does it’ll fret him, as sure as my name’s Bob Hatcham.

Not to-night, sir, but he’s a proud ’orse and what’ll[Pg 76] he think of ’isself on the ’ill to-morrow? You and me and the lady, sir—it ’ud be different with us, but how’s our Dandy to hide his bereavement?

[Hatcham goes out of the window with Sir Tristram as The Dean enters, followed by Blore, who carries a lighted lantern.

You can sleep to-night with the happy consciousness of having sheltered the outcast.

We’re locking up now. The poor children, exhausted with the alarm, beg me to say good-night for them. The fire is quite extinguished.

Yes, sir; but I hear they’ve just sent into Durnstone hasking for the Military to watch the ruins in case of another houtbreak. It’ll stop the wicked Ball at the Hathanæum, it will![Pg 77]

Let me see. We don’t want to pitch you out of your loft if we can help it, Gus.

Don’t consider me in this manner. But there’s Sheba’s little cot still standing in the old nursery.

[Grasping The Dean’s hand.] Good-night, old boy. I’m too done for a hand of Piquet to-night.

[Calling after him.] Tris! You may take your pipe up with you. We smoke all over the Deanery.

[Closes the door, humming a tune merrily.] Tra la, tra la! Now, Mr. Tidd, we’ll toddle. Tra la! tra la! [She stops, looking at The Dean, who is muttering to himself.] Gus, I don’t like your looks, I[Pg 79] shall let the Vet see you in the morning. What’s wrong with you?

There are bills, which, at a more convenient time, it will be my grateful duty to discharge.

There is a very large number of estimable worthy men who do not possess a thousand pounds. With that number I have the mournful pleasure of enrolling myself.

Unless the restoration is immediately commenced the spire will certainly crumble.

Then it’s a match between you and the spire which parts first. Gus, will you let your little sister lend you a hand?

No, no—not out of my own pocket. Come here. [She takes his arm and whispers in his ear.] Can you squeeze a pair of ponies?

No—no, don’t be rash! That’s the worst of you beginners. Only fifty by to-morrow morning.

He’s a certainty—if those two buckets of water haven’t put him off it! He’s a moral—if he doesn’t think of his tail coming down the hill. There’s nothing like him at the weight. Keep it dark, Gus—don’t breathe a word to any of your Canons or Archdeacons, or they’ll rush at it and shorten the price for us. Go in, Gus, my boy—take your poor widowed sister’s tip and sleep as peacefully as a blessed baby!

In the morning I will endeavor to frame some verbal expression of the horror with which I regard your proposal. For the present, you are my parents’ child and I trust your bed is well aired.

Oh, very well, Augustin. I’ve done all I can for the Spire. Bon soir, old boy!

If you’re wiser in the morning just send Blore on to the course and he’ll put the money on for you.[Pg 82]

Would he! He was quite at home in Tattersall’s Ring when I was at St. Marvells last summer.

Investing the savings of your cook and housemaid, of course. You don’t think your servants are as narrow as you are!

Breakfast at nine, sharp. And pack a hamper with a cold chicken, some French rolls, and two bottles of Heidsieck—label it “George Tidd,” and send it on to the Hill. I’ll stand the racket. Goodnight.

A dear, ’igh-sperited lady. [Leaning over The Dean.] Aren’t you well, sir?

What dreadful wave threatens to engulf the Deanery? What has come to us in a few fatal hours? A horse of sporting tendencies contaminating my stables, his equally vicious owner nestling in the nursery, and my own widowed sister, in all probability, smoking a cigarette at her bedroom window with her feet on the window-ledge! [Listening.] What’s that? [He peers through the window curtains.] I thought I heard footsteps in the garden. I can see nothing—only the old spire standing out against the threatening sky. [Leaving the window shudderingly.] The Spire! My principal creditor![Pg 84] My principal creditor, the most conspicuous object in the city!

[Laying the notes on the table.] I found these, sir, on your dressing-table—they’re bank-notes, sir.

[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!

[Catching him by the coat collar.] Man, what were you doing at St. Marvells Races last summer?

[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![Pg 85]

Oh, sir, you are a old gentleman—turn a charitable ’art to the Races! It’s a wicious institution what spends more ready money in St. Marvells than us good people do in a year.

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

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

Dandy Dick! That old bit of ma’ogany, sir. They’re layin’ ten to one against him.

Fifty! There’s the money. [Impulsively he crams the notes into Blore’s hand and then recoils in horror.] Oh!

[In a whisper.] Lor’, who’d ’ave thought the Dean was such a ardent sportsman at ’art? He dursn’t give me my notice after this. [To The Dean.] Of course it’s understood, sir, that we keep our little weaknesses dark. Houtwardly, sir, we remain respectable, and, I ’ope, respected. [Putting the notes into his pocket.] I wish you good-night, sir. [He walks to the door. The Dean makes an effort to recall him but fails.] And that old man ’as been my pattern and example for years and years! Oh, Edward Blore, your hidol is shattered! [Turning to The Dean.] Good-night, sir. May your dreams be calm and ’appy, and may you have a good run for your money!

I—I am upset to-night, Blore. Of course you leave this day month. I—I [looking round.] Blore! He’s[Pg 87] gone! If I don’t call him back the Spire may be richer to-morrow by five hundred pounds. I won’t dwell on it. I’ll read—I’ll read. [Snatches a book at haphazard from the bookshelf. There is the sound of falling rain and distant thunder.] Rain, thunder. How it assimilates with the tempest of my mind! I’ll read. Bless me! This is very strange. [Reading.] “The Horse and its Ailments, by John Cox, M. R. C. V. S.” It was with the aid of this volume that I used to doctor my old mare at Oxford. A leaf turned down. [Reading.] “Simple remedies for chills—the Bolus.” The helpless beast in my stable is suffering from a chill. Good gracious! If I allow Blore to risk my fifty pounds on Dandy Dick, surely it would be advisable to administer this Bolus to the poor animal without delay. [Referring to the book hastily.] I have these drugs in my chest. There’s not a moment to be lost! [Going to the bell and ringing.] I shall want help. I’ll fetch my medicine chest.

[Looking round.] Where is he? The bell rang. The Dean’s puzzling me with his uncommon behavior, that he is.

[The Dean comes from the Library, carrying a large medicine chest. On encountering Blore he starts and turns away his head, the picture of guilt.

Blore, I feel it would be a humane act to administer to the poor ignorant animal in my stable a simple Bolus as a precaution against chill. I rely[Pg 88] upon your aid and discretion in ministering to any guest in the Deanery.

[In a whisper.] I see, sir—you ain’t going to lose half a chance for to-morrow, sir—you’re a knowin’ one, sir, as the sayin’ goes!

[Shrinking from Blore with a groan.] Oh! [He places the medicine chest on the table and takes up the book. Handing the book to Blore with his finger on a page.] Fetch these humble but necessary articles from the kitchen—quick. I’ll mix the Bolus here. [Blore goes out quickly.] It is exactly seven and twenty years since I last approached a horse medically. [He takes off his coat and lays it on a chair, then rolls his shirt-sleeves up above his elbows and puts on his glasses.] I trust that this Bolus will not give the animal an unfair advantage over his competitors. I don’t desire that! I don’t desire that! [Blore re-enters carrying a tray, on which are a small flour-barrel and rolling-pin, a white china basin, a carafe of water, a napkin, and the book. The Dean recoils, then guiltily takes the tray from Blore and puts it on the table.] Thank you.

[Holding on to the window curtain and watching The Dean.] His eyes is awful; I don’t seem to know the ’appy Deanery when I see such proceedings a’goin’ on at the dead of night.[Pg 89]

[There is a heavy roll of thunder—The Dean mixes a pudding and stirs it with the rolling-pin.

The old half-forgotten time returns to me. I am once again a promising youth at college.

[To himself.] One would think by his looks that he was goin’ to poison his family instead of—Poison! Poison! Oh, if hanything serious ’appened to the hanimal in our stable there would be nothing in the way of Bonny-Betsy, the deservin’ ’orse I’ve trusted with my ’ard-earned savings!

I am walking once again in the old streets at Oxford, avoiding the shops where I owe my youthful bills. Bills!

[To himself.] Where’s the stuff I got a month ago to destroy the hold black retriever that fell hill?

The dog died—the poison’s in my pantry—it couldn’t have got used for cooking purposes.

I see the broad meadows and the tall Spire of the college—the Spire! Oh, my whole life seems made up of Bills and Spires!

Where are the drugs—the drugs? [Opening the medicine chest and bending down over the bottles he pours some drops from a bottle into the basin.] [Counting.] Three—four—five—six. [He replaces the bottle and takes another.] How fortunate some animals are! [Counting.] One—two—three, four. It’s done!

[In a whisper.] Strychnine! [There is a heavy roll of thunder—Blore darts to the table, empties the contents of the packet into the basin, and stirs vigorously with the rolling-pin.] I’ve cooked Dandy Dick! I’ve cooked Dandy Dick! [He moves from the table in horror.] Oh! I’m only a hamatoor sportsman and I can’t afford a uncertainty. [As The Dean returns, Blore starts up guiltily.] Can I help you any more, Sir?

[Removing the tray.] It’s only an ’orse—it’s only an ’orse! But after to-morrow I’ll retire from the Turf, if only to reclaim ’im.[Pg 91]

[Putting on his coat.] I don’t contemplate my humane task with resignation. The stable is small, and if the animal is restive we shall be cramped for room. [The rain is heard.] I shall get a chill too. [Seeing Sir Tristram’s coat and cap lying upon the settee.] I am sure Mardon will lend me this gladly. [Putting on the coat, which completely envelops him.] The animal may recognize the garment, and receive me with kindly feeling. [Putting on the sealskin cap, which almost conceals his face.] Ugh! why do I feel this dreadful sinking at the heart? [Taking the basin and turning out the lamp.] Oh! if all followers of the veterinary science are as truly wretched as I am, what a noble band they must be!

[The thunder rolls as he goes through the window curtains. Sir Tristram then enters quietly, smoking, and carrying a lighted candle.

All right; fire still burning. [Blowing out the candle.] I shall doze here till daybreak. What a night! I never thought there was so much thunder in these small country places.

[Georgiana, looking pale and agitated, and wearing a dressing-gown, enters quickly, carrying an umbrella and a lighted candle.

Which is the nearer way to the stable? I must satisfy myself—I must—I must! [Going to the door.]

[Holding out her umbrella.] Stand where you are or I’ll fire! [Recognizing Sir Tristram.] Tris!

Oh, Tris, I’ve been dreaming! [Falling helplessly against Sir Tristram, who deposits her in a chair.] Oh! oh! oh! Don’t look at me! I’m overtrained. I shall be on my legs again in a minute.

[Standing over the umbrella in great concern.] My goodness! George, whatever shall I do? Shall I trot you up and down outside?

Be quiet! [Sobbing.] What are you fooling about here for? Why can’t you lie quietly in your cot?

Into the stable to sit with Dandy. The thunder’s awful in my room; when it gets tired it seems to sit[Pg 93] down on my particular bit of roof. I did doze once, and then I had a frightful dream. I dreamt that Dandy had sold himself to a circus, and that they were hooting him because he had lost his tail. There’s an omen!

[Shutting her umbrella.] I know I’m dreadfully effeminate. There—Tidd’s himself again!

Ah, Tris—don’t think me soft, old man. I’m a lonely, unlucky woman, and the tail end of this horse is all that’s left me in the world to love and to cling to!

No, by Jove! I’m not such a mean cur as that! Swop halves and take his head, George, my boy.

Not I! I’m like a doating mother to my share of Dandy, and it’s all the dearer because it’s an invalid. I’m off.

Come along! [Turning towards the window, she following him, he suddenly stops and looks at her, and seizes her hand.] George, I never guessed that you were so tender-hearted.

I mean that I seem to have dropped the acquaintance of George Tidd, Esquire, forever.

[Snatching her hand away angrily.] Stay where you are; I’ll nurse my half alone. [She goes towards the window, then starts back.] Hush!

[Peeping through the curtains.] You’re right. Some people moving about the garden.[Pg 95]

They’re not near the stables. They’re coming in here. Hush! We’ll clear out and watch!

[Sir Tristram takes the candlestick and they go out leaving the room in darkness. The curtains at the window are pushed aside, and Salome and Sheba enter; both in their fancy dresses.

To think that we’ve had all the inconvenience of being wicked and rebellious and have only half done it!

It serves us right—we’ve been trained for clergymen’s wives. I hate Nugent Darbey. I hope he may grow bald early![Pg 96]

Gerald Tarver’s nose is inclined to pink—may it deepen and deepen till it frightens cows!

[Salome draws aside the curtain. Tarver and Darbey enter. They are both very badly and shabbily dressed as Cavaliers.

[A most miserable object, carrying a carriage umbrella.] Oh, don’t reproach us, Miss Jedd. It isn’t our fault that the Military were summoned to St. Marvells.

You don’t blame officers and gentlemen for responding to the sacred call of duty?[Pg 97]

We blame officers for subjecting two motherless girls to the shock of alighting at the Durnstone Athenæum to find a notice on the front door: “Ball knocked on the head—Vivat Regina.”

We blame gentlemen for inflicting upon us the unspeakable agony of being jeered at by boys.

I took the address of the boy who suggested that we should call again on the fifth of November. It is on the back of your admission card.

Everything will be done. We shall both wait on the boy’s mother for an explanation.

Oh, smile on us once again, Miss Jedd—a forced, hollow smile, if you will—only smile. Salome!

[Advancing to Tarver.] How dare you encourage these two simple children to enjoy themselves! How dare you take them out—without their Aunt! Do you think I can’t keep a thing quiet?

We shall be happy to receive your representative in the morning. At present we are on duty.

Guarding the ruins of the “Swan,” are you? [Calling.] Tris! Sir Tristram! [Sir Tristram appears.] Tris, I’m a feeble woman, but I hope I’ve a keen sense of right and wrong. Run these[Pg 99] outsiders into the road, and let them guard their own ruins.

[Salome and Sheba shriek, and throw themselves at the feet of Tarver and Darbey, clinging to their legs.

[Sir Tristram twists Tarver’s wig round so that it covers his face. The gate bell is heard ringing violently.

[Hatcham, carrying the basin with the bolus, runs in breathlessly—followed by Blore.

The villain that set fire to the “Swan,” sir—in the hact of administering a dose to the ’orse!

Topping the constable’s collared him, Sir—he’s taken him in a cart to the lock-up!

THE THIRD ACT.

The first scene is the interior of a country Police Station, a quaint old room with plaster walls, oaken beams, and a gothic mullioned window looking on to the street. A massive door, with a small sliding wicket and an iron grating, opens to a prisoner’s cell. The room is partly furnished as a kitchen, partly as a police station, a copy of the Police Regulations and other official documents and implements hanging on the wall. It is the morning after the events of the previous act.

Hannah, a buxom, fresh-looking young woman, in a print gown, has been engaged in cooking while singing gayly.

You’ll have your dinner before you drive your prisoner over to Durnstone, won’t ye, darling?

[Closing the door.] Yaas! Noah’s in a nice temper to-day over summat. Ah well, I suppose all public characters is liable to irritation. [There is a knock at the outer door. Hannah opening it, sees Blore with a troubled look on his face.] Well I never! Mr. Blore from the Deanery! Come in! You might knock me down with a——!

[To himself.] Good gracious! She doesn’t know of hour misfortune. [To Hannah.] I—I ’aven’t seen him this morning!

Well, this is real kind of you, calling on an old friend, Edward. When I think that I were cook at the Deanery seven years, and that since I left you, to get wedded, not a soul of you has been nigh me, it do seem hard.

Well, you see, ’Annah, the kitchen took humbrage at your marryin’ a policeman at Durnstone. It was regarded as a messyliance.

Well, now Mr. Topping’s got the appointment of Head Constable at St. Marvells, what’s that regarded as?[Pg 103]

A rise on the scales, ’Annah, a decided rise—but still you’ve honly been a week in St. Marvells and you’ve got to fight your way hup.

’Owever, Jane and Sarah and Willis the stable boy ’ave hunbent so far as to hask me to leave their cards, knowin’ I was a callin’.

[He produces from an old leather pocket-book three very dirty pieces of paste-board, which he gives to Hannah.

[Taking them in her apron with pride.] Thank ’em kindly. When’s their evening?

Don’t! When you was Miss Hevans there wasn’t these social barriers, ’Annah!

Shut up! Noah’s jealous of the very apron-strings what go round my waist. I’m not so free and ’andy with my kisses now, I can tell you.

Then “what is friendship but a name!” But Mr. Topping isn’t indoors now, surely![Pg 104]

Why, I thought that when hany harrest was made in St. Marvells, the prisoner was lodged here honly for the night and that the ’ead Constable ’ad to drive ’im over to Durnstone Police Station the first thing in the morning.

That’s the rule, but Noah’s behindhand to-day, and ain’t going into Durnstone till after dinner.

Oh, my goodness, honly fancy! [Whimpering to[Pg 105] himself.] And ’im accustomed to his shavin’ water at h’eight and my kindly hand to button his gaiters. Oh, here’s a warnin’!

’Annah, ’Annah, my dear, it’s this very prisoner what I ’ave called on you respectin’.

[Throwing the cards into Blore’s hat.] You can take them back to the Deanery with Mrs. Topping’s comps.

[Shaking the cards out of his hat and replacing them in his pocket-book.] I will leave them hon you again to-morrow, ’Annah. But, ’Annah deary, do you know that this hunfortunate man was took in our stables last night.

No, I never ask Noah nothing about Queen’s business. He don’t want two women over him!

Lor’ no. I was in bed hours when Noah brought[Pg 106] ’im ’ome. I take no interest in it all. They tell us it’s only a wretched poacher or a petty larcery we’ll get in St. Marvells. My poor Noah ain’t never likely to have the chance of a horrid murder in a place what returns a Conservative. My joint’s burning.

But, ’Annah, suppose this case you’ve got ’old of now is a case what’ll shake old England to its basis! Suppose it means columns in the paper with Topping’s name a-figurin’! Suppose as family readin’, it ’old its own with divorce cases!

No, no, I don’t! I merely said suppose. I merely wish to encourage you, ’Annah; to implant an ’ope that crime may brighten your wedded life.

[Sitting at the table and referring to an official book.] The man was found trespassing in the Deanery Stables with intent—refuses to give his name or any account of ’isself.

[To himself.] If I could honly find hout whether Dandy Dick had any of the medicine it would so guide me at the Races. What am I to do? It doesn’t appear that the ’orse in the stables—took it, does it?[Pg 107]

Er—took fright. You’re sure there’s no confession of any sort, ’Annah dear?

[As he is bending over Hannah, Noah Topping appears. Noah is a dense-looking ugly countryman, with red hair, a bristling heard, and a vindictive leer. He is dressed in ill-fitting clothes, as a rural Police Constable.

[Starting and replacing the book.] Oh don’t! This is Mr. Blore from the Deanery come to see us—an old friend o’ mine!

[Taking Blore’s hand and holding it firmly.] A friend of hern is a friend o’ mian!

She’s gettin’ me a lot o’ nice noo friends this week, since we coom to St. Marvells.

Ay. Well then, as her friends be mian, I’m takin’ the liberty, one by one, of gradually droppin’ on ’em all.

And if I catch any old fly a buzzin’ round my lady I’ll venture to break his ’ead in wi’ my staff!

[Preparing to depart.] I—I merely called to know if hanything had been found hout about the ruffian took in our stables last night!

[Fiercely.] Shut oop, darlin’. Very well, then—give Mr. Topping’s respects to the Dean, and say I’ll run up to the Deanery and see him after I’ve took my man over to Durnstone.[Pg 109]

Thank you—I ’ope the Dean will be at ’ome. Good-day, ’Annah! Good-day, Mr. Topping!

[Offering his hand, into which Noah significantly places his truncheon. Blore goes out quickly.

[Whimpering.] Oh, Noah, Noah, I don’t believe as we shall ever get a large circle of friends round us!

Now then! [Selecting a pair of handcuffs and examining them critically.] Them’ll do. [Slipping them into his pocket, and turning upon Hannah suddenly.] ’Annah!

Oh, dont’ee trust to Nick, Noah dear—he’s such a vicious brute. Kitty’s safer in the cart.

Shut oop, darlin’. Nick can take me on to the edge o’ the hill in half the time.

Ah, what d’ye think I’ve put off taking my man to Durnstone to now for? Why, I’m a goin’ to get a glimpse of the racin’, on my way over. [Opening the wicket in the cell door and looking in.] There he is! Sulky! [To Hannah.] Hopen the hoven door, ’Annah, and let the smell of the cookin’ get into him.

Do as I tell’ee. [She opens the oven door.] Torture! Of course it’s torture! That’s my rule! Whenever I get a ’old of a darned obstinate creature wot won’t reveal his hindentity I hopens the hoven door.

[He goes out into the street, and as he departs, the woful face of The Dean appears at the wicket, his head being still enveloped in the fur cap.

[Shutting the oven door.] Not me! Torturing prisoners might a’ done for them Middling Ages what Noah’s always clattering about, but not for my time o’ life. I’ll shut that wicket. [Crossing close to the wicket, her face almost comes against The Dean’s. She gives a cry.] The Dean!

Oh, no! Not my old master! Never the master![Pg 111] [Tottering to the wicket and looking in.] Master! Look at me! It’s ’Annah, your poor faithful servant, ’Annah!

It’s ’Annah Topping, Knee Evans, wife o’ the Constable what’s goin’ to take you to cruel Durnstone. [Sinking weeping upon the ground at the door.] Oh, Mr. Dean, sir, what have you been up to? What have you been up to? What have you been up to?

[On her knees, clasping her hands.] Tell me what you’ve done, Master dear; give it a name, for the love of goodness

Is it a change o’ cooking that’s brought you to such ways? I cooked for you for seven ’appy years!

[With clenched hands and a determined look.] Oh! [Quickly locking and bolting the street door.] Noah can’t put that brute of a horse to under ten minutes. The dupplikit key o’ the Strong Box! [Producing a large key, with which she unlocks the cell door.] Master, you’ll give me your patrol not to cut, won’t you?

[As he enters the room.] Good day, Hannah; you have bettered yourself, I hope?

You appear to misapprehend the precise degree of criminality which attaches to me, Mrs. Topping. In the eyes of that majestic, but imperfect instrument, the law, I am an innocent if not an injured man.

Ah, stick to that, sir! Stick to it, if you think it’s likely to serve your wicked ends!

My good woman, a single word from me to those at the Deanery, would instantly restore me to home, family, and accustomed diet.

Ah, they all tell that tale what comes here. Why don’t you send word, Dean dear?

Because I should return to the Deanery with my dignity—that priceless possession of man’s middle age!—with my dignity seriously impaired!

How could I face my simple children who have hitherto, not unreasonably, regarded me as faultless? How could I again walk erect in the streets of St.[Pg 114] Marvells with my name blazoned on the Records of a Police Station of the very humblest description?

[Sinking into a chair and snatching up a piece of breads which he begins munching.

[Wiping her eyes.] Oh, sir, it’s a treat to hear you, compared with the hordinary criminal class. But, master, dear, though my Noah don’t recognize you—through his being a stranger to St. Marvells—how’ll you fare when you get to Durnstone?

I have one great buoyant hope—that a word in the ear of the Durnstone Superintendent will send me forth an unquestioned man. You and he will be the sole keepers of my precious secret. May its possession be a lasting comfort to you both.

It is the sole remaining chance of averting a calamity of almost national importance.

The Superintendent at Durnstone—John Ruggles—also the two Inspectors, Whitaker and Parker——

Yes. [The Dean totters across to a chair, into which he sinks with his head upon the table.] Master! Listen!

No, no—Listen! I was well fed and kept seven years at the Deanery—I’ve been wed to Noah Topping eight weeks—that’s six years and ten months’ lovin’ duty doo to you and yours before I owe nothing to my darling Noah. Master dear, you shan’t be took to Durnstone!

Silence! Hannah Topping, formerly Evans, it is my duty to inform you that your reasoning does more credit to your heart than to your head.

I can’t help that. The Devil’s always in a woman’s heart because it’s the warmest place to get to! [Taking a small key from the table drawer.] Here, take that! [Pushing the key into the pocket of his coat.] When you once get free from my darling Noah that key unlocks your handcuffs!

How are you to get free, that’s the question now, isn’t it? I’ll tell you. My Noah drives you over to Durnstone with old Nick in the cart.

That’s the horse. Now Nick was formerly in the Durnstone Fire Brigade, and when he ’ears the familiar signal of a double whistle you can’t hold him in. There’s the whistle. [Putting it into The Dean’s pocket.] Directly you turn into Pear Tree Lane, blow once and you’ll see Noah with his nose in the air, pullin’ fit to wrench his ’ands off. Jump out—roll clear of the wheel—keep cool and ’opeful and blow again. Before you can get the mud out of your eyes Noah and the horse and cart will be well into Durnstone, and may Providence restore a young ’usband safe to his doatin’ wife!

Another start! Woman, do you think I’ve no conscience? Do you think I don’t realize the enormity of the—of the difficulties in alighting from a vehicle in rapid motion?

[Opening the oven and taking out a small joint in a baking tin, which she places on the table.] It’s ’unger what makes you feel conscientious!

With me, sir—but not with the joint! You’ll feel wickeder when you’ve had a little nourishment. [He looks hungrily at the dish.] That’s right, Dean, dear—taste my darling Noah’s favorite dish.

[Advancing towards the table.] Oh, Hannah Topping—Hannah Topping! [Clutching the carving-knife despairingly.] I’ll have no more women cooks at the Deanery! This reads me a lesson.

Don’t stint yourself, sir. You can’t blow that whistle on an empty frame. [The Dean begins to eat.] Don’t my cooking carry you back, sir? Oh, say it do![Pg 118]

Ah, if every mouthful would carry me back one little hour I would finish this joint!

[Noah Topping, unperceived by Hannah and The Dean, climbs in by the window, his eyes bolting with rage—he glares round the room, taking in everything at a glance.

[Under his breath.] My man o’ mystery—a waited on by my nooly made wife—a heating o’ my favorite meal.

[Still eating.] If my mind were calmer this would be an all-sufficient repast. [Hannah tries to speak, then clasps her hands and sinks on her knees to Noah.] Hannah, a little plain cold water in a simple tumbler, please.

[Grimly—folding his arms.] ’Annah, hintrodooce me. [Hannah gives a cry and clings to Noah’s legs.

[Calmly to Noah.] Am I to gather, constable, from your respective attitudes that you object to these little kindnesses extended to me by your worthy wife?

I’m wishin’ to know the name o’ my worthy wife’s friend. A friend o’ hern is a friend o’ mian.

Noahry! I made this gentleman’s acquaintance through the wicket, in a casual way.

Ay. Cooks and railins—cooks and railins! I might a guessed my wedded life ’ud a coom to this.

He spoke to me just as a strange gentleman ought to speak to a lady! Didn’t you, sir—didn’t you?

Hannah, do not let us even under these circumstances prevaricate; such is not quite the case!

[Noah advances savagely to The Dean. There is a knocking at the door.—Noah restrains himself and faces The Dean.

Noa, this is neither the toime nor pla-ace, wi’ people at the door and dinner on t’ table, to spill a strange man’s blood.

I trust that your self-respect as an officer of the law will avert anything so unseemly.

Ay. That’s it! You’ve touched me on my point o’ pride. There ain’t another police-station in all Durnstone conducted more strict and rigid nor what mian is, and it shall so continue. You and me is a goin’ to set out for Durnstone, and when the charges[Pg 120] now standin’ agen you is entered, it’s I, Noah Topping, what’ll hadd another!

Ay, and worse—the embezzlin’ o’ my mid-day meal prepared by her ’ands. [Points into the cell.] Go in; you ’ave five minutes more in the ’ome you ’ave ruined and laid waste.

[Going to the door and turning to Noah.] You will at least receive my earnest assurance that this worthy woman is extremely innocent?

Hinnocent? [Points to the joint on the table.] Look theer! [The Dean, much overcome, disappears through the cell door, which Noah closes and locks. The knock at the door is repeated. To Hannah, pointing to the outer door.] Hunlock that door!

[Hannah unlocks the door, and admits Georgiana and Sir Tristram, both dressed for the race-course.

Yes, lady. Take a chair, lady, near the fire. [To Sir Tristram.] Sit down, sir.

This is my first visit to a police-station, my good woman; I hope it will be the last.

Oh, don’t say that, ma’am. We’re honly hauxilliary ’ere, ma’am—the Bench sets at Durnstone.

[Who has not been noticed, surveying Georgiana and Sir Tristram, gloomily.] ’Annah, hintrodooce me.[Pg 122]

’Annah’s a gettin’ me a lot o’ nice noo friends this week since we coom to St. Marvells.

Noa—they generally coom to see my wife. ’Owever, if it’s business [pointing to the other side of the room] that’s the hofficial side—this is domestic. You’ll hall kindly move over.

Now, look here, my man. This lady is Mrs. Tidman. Mrs. Tidman is the sister of Dr. Jedd, the Dean of St. Marvells.

[To Noah.] Well, my good man, to come to the point. My poor friend and this lady’s brother, Dr. Jedd, the Dean, you know—has mysteriously and unaccountably disappeared.

Now, look ’ere—it’s no good a gettin’ ’asty and irritable with the law. I’ll coom over to yer, officially.[Pg 124]

[Putting the baking tin under his arm he crosses over to Sir Tristram and Georgiana.

[Putting his handkerchief to his face.] Don’t bring that horrible odor of cooking over here.

One ’ud a done. It’s only confusin’—hall doin’ it! Money matters right or wrong?

I’ve been a good bit about, I read a deal, and I’m a shrewd experienced man. I should say this is nothin’ but a hordinary case of sooicide.

[Turns upon Noah.] Look here, all you’ve got to do is to hold your tongue and take down my description of the Dean, and report his disappearance at Durnstone. [Pushing him into a chair.] Go on! [Dictating.] “Missing. The Very Reverend Augustin Jedd, Dean of St. Marvells.” Poor Gus! Poor Gus!

[Writing laboriously with his legs curled round the chair and his head on the table.] Ay. I’m spelling it my own way.[Pg 127]

[Turning from Hannah, excitedly.] Description—a little, short, thin man, with black hair and a squint!

[Clutching Sir Tristram’s arm and whispering in his ear, as she points to the cell door.] He’s in there![Pg 128]

[Falling back.] Oh! [Hannah seizes Sir Tristram and talks to him rapidly.] [To Noah.] What have you written?

[Snatching the paper from him.] It’s not wanted. I’ve altered my mind. I’m too busy to bother about him this week.

Look here—you’re the constable who took the man in the Deanery Stables last night?

Ay. [Looking out of the window.] There’s my cart outside ready to take the scoundrel over to Durnstone.

I can’t think. The first thing to do is to get him out of this hole. This good woman has arranged for his escape.

But we can’t trust to Gus rolling out of a flying dogcart! Why, it’s as much as I could do!

Oh, yes, lady, he’ll do it. I’ve prewided for everything. Don’t betray him to Noah! There’s another—a awfuller charge hangin’ over his reverend ’ead.

[Raising his eyes, sees Sir Tristram and Georgiana, and recoils with a groan, sinking on to a chair.] Oh!

No, no, stay! I am the owner of the horse stabled at the Deanery. I make no charge against this wretched person. [To The Dean.] Oh man, man!

I was discovered administering to a suffering beast a simple remedy for chills. I am an unfortunate creature. Do with me what you will.

Release him! He was found trespassin’ in the stables of the la-ate De-an, who has committed sooicide.

I charge this person unknown with allynating the affections o’ my wife while I was puttin’ my ’orse to. And I’m goin’ to drive him over to Durnstone with the hevidence.[Pg 132]

[Whispering to The Dean.] I am disappointed in you, Angustin. Have you got this wretched woman’s whistle?

[Softly to The Dean.] Oh Jedd, Jedd—and these are what you call Principles! Have you got the key of your handcuffs?

In setting out upon a journey, the termination of which is problematical, I desire to attest that this erring constable is the husband of a wife from whom it is impossible to withhold respect, if not admiration.

As for my wretched self, the confession of my weaknesses must be reserved for another time—another place. [To Georgiana.] To you, whose privilege it is to shelter in the sanctity of the Deanery, I give this earnest admonition. Within an hour from this terrible moment, let the fire be lighted in the drawing-room—let the missing man’s warm bath be waiting for its master—a change of linen prepared. Withhold your judgments. Wait.

[Kneeling at Georgiana’s feet.] Think! That he’s the beautifullest, sweetest man in all Durnshire!

It’s I and my whistle and Nick the fire-brigade horse what’ll bring him back to the Deanery safe and unharmed. Not a soul but we three’ll ever know of his misfortune. [Listening.] Hark! They’re off!

The Dean can whistle himself blue! Noah’s put Kitty in the cart, and left Old Nick at home!

He must! In the meantime it is such a comfort to feel that we have no cause for self-reproach.

[Clinging to Salome.] If I should pine and ultimately die of this suspense I want you to have my workbox.

[Shaking her head and sadly turning away.] Thank you, dear, but if Papa is not home for afternoon tea you will outlive me.

Tarver and Darbey enter, dressed for the Races, but Darbey is supporting Tarver, who looks extremely weakly.

One step further, and I shall ask Major Tarver, who is nearest the bell, to ring for help.

[Standing by the side of Tarver.] There now. The fact is. Miss Jedd, that Tarver is in an exceedingly critical condition. Feeling that he has incurred your displeasure he has failed even in the struggle to gain the race-course. I have taken him to Dr. Middleton and I explained that Major Tarver loved with a passion [looking at Sheba] second only to my own.

The Doctor made a searching examination of the Major’s tongue and diagnosed that, unless the Major at once proposed to the lady in question and was accepted, three weeks or a month at the seaside would be absolutely imperative. Shall I continue?

[Rising with difficulty and approaching Salome.] Salome—I have loved you distractedly for upwards of eight weeks.

[Going to him.] Oh, Major Tarver, let me pass; [holding his coat firmly] let me pass, I say.

To a man in my condition love is either a rapid and fatal malady, or it is an admirable digestive. Accept me, and my merry laugh once more rings through the Mess Room. Reject me, and my collection of vocal music, loose and in volumes, will be brought to the hammer, and the bird, as it were, will trill no more.

Certainly. [Taking a sheet of paper from his pocket.] I have the Doctor’s certificate to that effect.

Oh, it is so very little—it is not worth mentioning. Cannot we remain friends and occasionally correspond?[Pg 139]

No, no, I see that is impracticable. It must be wed or part. All I ask is time—time to ponder over such a question, time to know myself better.

[They separate as Tarver and Salome re-enter the room. Tarver is glaring excitedly and biting his nails.

I never thought I should live to be accepted by anyone. I shall buy some gay songs. Er—when can I see the Dean?

[Pulling Tarver after her.] Come this way and let us take cuttings in the conservatory.

[Waving her handkerchief.] Come on, Tris! The course is clear! Mind the gate-post! Hold him up! Now give him his head!

Sir Tristram and Hatcham enter by the window carrying The Dean. They all look as though they have been recently engaged in a prolonged struggle.

[They deposit The Dean in a chair and Georgiana and Sir Tristram each seize a hand, feeling The Dean’s pulse, while Hatcham puts his hand on The Dean’s heart.

[Quietly.] Hurrah! [To Hatcham.] We can’t shout here; go and cheer as loudly as you can in the roadway by yourself.

I feel as if I had been walked over carefully by a large concourse of the lower orders!

Georgiana, I am bound to overlook it, in a relative, but never let this occur again.

But we ascertained the road the genial constable was going to follow. He was bound for the edge of the hill, up Pear Tree Lane, to watch the Races. Directly we knew this, Tris and I made for the Hill. Bless your soul, there were hundreds of my old friends there—welshers, pick-pockets, card-sharpers, all the lowest race-course cads in the kingdom. In a minute I was in the middle of ’em, as much at home as a Duchess in a Drawing-room.

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.

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 glasses had gone on their long journey. “Listen to[Pg 144] 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 assent, 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 noble in true English sport after all?

Every abused institution 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.

[Recoiling.] No! Then the horse who enjoyed the shelter of the Deanery last night——[Pg 145]

In a common canter! All the rest nowhere, and Bonny Betsy walked in with the policeman.

[To himself.] Five hundred pounds towards the Spire! Five hundred! Oh, where is Blore with the good news!

Sir Tristram, I am under the impression that your horse swallowed reluctantly a small portion of that bolus last night before I was surprised and removed.

Spare yourself the trouble—the secret is with me. I seek no acknowledgment from either of you, but in your moment of deplorable triumph remember with gratitude the little volume of “The Horse and its Ailments” and the prosaic name of its humane author—John Cox.

Don’t stop me? Why, you were the man who hauled Augustin out of the cart by his legs!

They’re not trifles. And when his cap fell off, it was you—brave fellow that you are—who pulled the horse’s nose-bag over my brother’s head so that he shouldn’t be recognized.

They are acts which any true woman would esteem. Gus won’t readily forget the critical moment when all the cut chaff ran down the back of his neck—nor shall I.

Nor shall I forget the way in which you gave Dandy his whisky out of a soda water bottle just before the race.

Nothing! You looked like the Florence Nightingale of the paddock! Oh, Georgiana, why, why, why won’t you marry me?[Pg 147]

Yes, Tris, old man, but love is founded on mutual esteem; last night you hadn’t put my brother’s head in that nose-bag.

[Looking in at the door.] How annoying! There’s Aunt and Sir Tristram in this room—Salome and Major Tarver are sitting on the hot pipes in the conservatory—where am I and Mr. Darbey to go? Papa! Come back!

[She withdraws quickly as The Dean enters through the Library carrying a paper in his hand; he has now resumed his normal appearance.

Home! What sonorous music is in the word! Home, with the secret of my sad misfortune buried in the bosoms of a faithful few. Home, with my family influence intact! Home, with the sceptre of[Pg 148] my dignity still tight in my grasp! What is this I have picked up on the stairs?

It is too horrible! [Reading.] “Debtor to Lewis Isaacs, Costumier to the Queen, Bow Street—Total, Forty pounds, nineteen!” There was a fancy masked ball at Durnstone last night! Salome—Sheba—no, no!

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 document. [Reading.] “Debtor to Lewis Isaacs, Costumier to the Queen.”

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.

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?

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.

[Recoiling.] You too! You too drawn into the vortex! Is there no conscience that is clear—is there no guilessness left in this house, with the possible exception of my own!

[Handing Sheba the bill.] Take this horrid thing—never let it meet my eyes again. As for the scandalous costumes, they shall be raffled for in aid of local charities. Confidence, that precious pearl in the snug shell of domesticity, is at an end between us. I chastise you both by permanently withholding from you the reason of my absence from home last night. Go!

[The girls totter out as Sir Tristram enters quickly at the window, followed by Georgiana, carrying the basin containing the bolus. Sir Tristram has an opened letter in his hand.

[To Georgiana.] How dare you confront me without even the semblance of a blush—you who have[Pg 152] enabled my innocent babies, for the first time in their lives, to discharge one of their own accounts.

[Looking at Georgiana.] My sister! [To Sir Tristram.] I offer no opposition.

But not even our approaching family tie prevents my designating you as one of the most atrocious conspirators known in the history of the Turf.

Strychnine! Summon my devoted servant Blore, in whose presence the innocuous mixture was compounded. [Georgiana rings the bell. The girls hide behind the window curtains.] This analysis is simply the pardonable result of over-enthusiasm on the part of our local chemist.

You’re a disgrace to the pretty little police station where you slept last night!

I will prove that in the Deanery Stables the common laws of hospitality have never been transgressed. Give me the bowl! [Georgiana hands The Dean the basin from the table.] A simple remedy for a chill.[Pg 154]

I, myself, am suffering from the exposure of last night. [Taking the remaining bolus and opening his mouth.] Observe me!

[Rushing forward, snatching the basin from The Dean and sinking on to his knees.] No, no! Don’t, don’t! You wouldn’t ’ang the holdest servant in the Deanery.

I did it! I ’ad a honest fancy for Bonny Betsy, and I wanted this gentleman’s ’orse out of the way. And while you was mixing the dose with the best ecclesiastical intentions, I hintroduced a foreign element.

The dear Dean had only Fifty Pounds to spare for sporting purposes, and I thought a gentleman of ’is ’igh standing ought to have a certainty.[Pg 155]

I can conceal it no longer—I—I instructed this unworthy creature to back Dandy Dick on behalf of the Restoration Fund.

Oh, sir, thinking as you’d given some of the mixture to Dandy I put your cheerful little offering on to Bonny Betsy.

Oh! [To Blore.] I could have pardoned everything but this last act of disobedience. You are unworthy of the Deanery. Leave it for some ordinary household.

If I leave the Deanery, I shall give my reasons, and then what’ll folks think of you and me in our old age?

I must save you from intemperance at any cost. Remain in my service—a sad, sober and, above all, a silent man!

If you have sufficiently merged all sense of moral rectitude as to declare that I am not at home, do so.

No, no. Papa; we have accidentally discovered that you, our parent, have stooped to deception, if not to crime.

We are still young—the sooner, therefore, we are removed from any unfortunate influence the better.[Pg 157]

[He goes out rapidly, followed by Salome and Sheba. Directly they have disappeared, Noah Topping, looking dishevelled, rushes in at the window, with Hannah clinging to him.

Theer’s been a man rescued from my lawful custody while my face was unofficially held downwards in the mud. The villain has been traced back to the Deanery.

You mustn’t bring your domestic affairs here; this is a subject for your own fireside of an evening.

I’m speaking to the man I took last night—the culprit as ’as allynated the affections of my wife.

[Salome and Tarver go into the Library and sit at the writing-table. Darbey sits in an arm-chair with Sheba on the arm.

[Mildly.] Do not let us chide a man who is conscientious even in error. [Looking at Hannah.] I think I see Hannah Evans, once an excellent cook under this very roof.

I’m Mrs. Topping now, sir—bride o’ the constable. And oh, do forgive him—he’s a mass o’ ignorance.

[To Hatcham.] Hatcham—[pointing to The Dean]—Is that the man you and the Constable secured in the stable last night?

Don’t trouble further. I withdraw unreservedly any charge against this unknown person found on my premises last night. I attribute to him the most innocent intentions. Hannah, you and your worthy husband will stay and dine in my kitchen. Good afternoon.

[Turning angrily to Hannah.] Now then, you don’t know a real gentleman when you see one. Why don’t ’ee thank the Dean warmly?

Happy! My family influence gone forever—my dignity crushed out of all recognition—the genial summer of the Deanery frosted by the winter of Deceit.[Pg 161]

Ah, Gus, when once you lay the whip about the withers of the horse called Deception he takes the bit between his teeth, and only the devil can stop him—and he’d rather not. Shall I tell you who has been riding the horse hardest?

[Sheba sits at the piano and plays a bright air softly—Darbey standing behind her—Salome and Tarver stand in the archway.

[Slapping The Dean on the back.] Look here, Augustin, George Tidd will lend you that thousand for the poor, innocent old Spire.

On one condition—that you’ll admit there’s no harm in our laughing at a Sporting Dean.

Why, Jedd, there’s no harm in laughter, for those who laugh or those who are laughed at.

Provided always—firstly, that it is Folly that is laughed at and not Virtue; secondly, that it is our friends who laugh at us, [to the audience] as we hope they all will, for our pains.

Transcriber’s Note

This transcription is based on the scan images posted by The Internet Archive at:

archive.org/details/dandydickplayint00pinerich

In addition, when there was a question about the printed text, another edition posted by The Internet Archive was consulted:

archive.org/details/dandydickplayint00pineiala

The following changes were made to the text:

Throughout the text, dashes at the end of lines have been normalized.
Throughout the text, “and” in the character titles preceding dialogue has been italicized consistently and names in stage directions have been consistently either capitalized (in the text version) or set in small caps (in the html version).
In the Introductory Note, “St. Marvells” has an apostrophe, whereas in the text of the play it almost always does not. The inconsistency has been allowed to stand in the Introductory Note, but the apostrophe has been removed in the few instances in the text.
Pg. 25: “The Dean gives Darbey a severe look...”—A bracket has been added to the beginning of this line.
Pg. 91: “Sir Tristram, then enters quietly, smoking...”—The comma after “Sir Tristram” has been deleted.
Pg. 97: “No, Aunt, No!”—The second “No” has been changed to lower case.
Pg. 139: “Oh, what do you think of it. Mr. Darbey?”—The period after “it” has been changed to a comma.
Pg. 141: “We can’t shout here, go and cheer...”—The comma has been changed to a semicolon.
Pg. 142: “That’s Hatcham, I’ll raise his wages.”—The comma has been changed to a semicolon.
Pg. 143: “’aint” has been changed to “ain’t”.
Pg. 147: “...mutual esteem, last night...”—The comma has been changed to a semicolon.
Pg. 154: “I did it?” has been changed to “I did it!”

The html version of this etext attempts to reproduce the layout of the printed text. However, some concessions have been made, particularly in the handling of stage directions enclosed by brackets on at least one side. (Entrances were usually without brackets.) In general, the stage directions were typeset in the printed text as follows:

Before and within dialogue.
Flush right, on the same line as the end of dialogue if there was enough space; on the next line, if there was not.
If the stage directions were two lines, they were indented from the left margin as hanging paragraphs. How much the stage directions were indented varied.

In the etext, all stage directions not before or within dialogue are placed on the next line, indented the same amount from the left margin, and coded as hanging paragraphs.

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The Very Rev. Augustin Jedd, D.D. (Dean of St. Marvell’s)				Mr. John Clayton.
Sir Tristram Mardon, Bart				Mr. Edmund Maurice.
Major Tarver Mr. Darbey	{	—th Hussars, quartered at Durnstone, near St. Marvell’s	}	Mr. F. Kerr. Mr. H. Eversfield.
Blore (Butler at the Deanery)				Mr. Arthur Cecil.
Noah Topping (Constable at St. Marvell’s)				Mr. W. H. Denny.
Hatcham (Sir Tristram’s groom)				Mr. W. Lugg.
Georgiana Tidman (a Widow, the Dean’s sister)				Mrs. John Wood.
Salome Sheba	}	the Dean’s Daughters	{	Miss Marie Lewes. Miss Norreys.
Hannah Topping (formerly in Service at the Deanery)				Miss Laura Linden.

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dandy Dick: A Play in Three Acts