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[_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?
THE DEAN.
Another _horse_, I presume?
SIR TRISTRAM.
No, a bay mare. George Tidd knew what she was about when she stuck to Dandy d.i.c.k to the very last.
THE DEAN.
[_Aghast._] George--Tidd?
SIR TRISTRAM.
Georgiana Tidman. Dandy came out of her stable after she smashed.
THE DEAN.
Bless me!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Poor old George! I wonder what's become of her.
THE DEAN.
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----
SIR TRISTRAM.
Don't name it. My horse and I are over the way at "The Swan." Come and look at Dandy d.i.c.k!
THE DEAN.
Mardon, you don't understand. My position in St. Marvells----
SIR TRISTRAM.
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.
THE DEAN.
You must remember----
SIR TRISTRAM.
I remember that in your young days you made the heaviest book on the Derby of any of our fellows.
THE DEAN.
I always lost, Mardon; indeed, I always lost!
SIR TRISTRAM.
I remember that you once matched a mare of your own against another of Lord Beckslade's for fifty pounds!
THE DEAN.
Yes, but she wasn't in it, Mardon--I mean she was dreadfully beaten.
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Shaking his head sorrowfully._] Oh Jedd, Jedd--other times, other manners. Good-bye, old boy.
THE DEAN.
You're not--you're not offended, Mardon?
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Taking THE DEAN'S hand._] Offended! No--only sorry, Dean, d.a.m.ned 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?
GEORGIANA.
Hullo, Mardon!
[_They shake hands warmly._
SIR TRISTRAM.
Of all places in the world, to find "Mr. Tidd!" [_Roaring with laughter._] Ho! ho! ho!
GEORGIANA.
[_Laughing._] Ha! ha!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Why, Dean, you've been chaffing me, have you?
THE DEAN.
No!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Yes, you have--you've been roasting your old friend!
