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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.
Look at him! Lively as a cricket!
THE DEAN.
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.
SIR TRISTRAM.
By the bye, I am expecting the a.n.a.lysis of that concoction every minute.
THE DEAN.
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 grat.i.tude the little volume of "The Horse and its Ailments" and the prosaic name of its humane author--John c.o.x.
[_He goes out through the Library._
GEORGIANA.
But oh, Tris Mardon, what can I ever say to you?
SIR TRISTRAM.
Anything you like except "Thank you!"
GEORGIANA.
Don't stop me? Why, you were the man who hauled Augustin out of the cart by his legs!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Oh, but why mention such trifles?
GEORGIANA.
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.
SIR TRISTRAM.
My dear Georgiana, these are the common courtesies of every-day life.
GEORGIANA.
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.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Nor shall I forget the way in which you gave Dandy his whisky out of a soda water bottle just before the race.
GEORGIANA.
