Before I answer a question, which, from a child to its parent, partakes of the unpardonable vice of curiosity, I demand an explanation of this disreputable doc.u.ment. [_Reading._] "Debtor to Lewis Isaacs, Costumier to the Queen."
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
Oh!
[_SHEBA sits aghast on the table--SALOME distractedly falls on the floor._
THE DEAN.
I will not follow this legend in all its revolting intricacies.
Suffice it, its moral is inculcated by the mournful total. Forty pounds, nineteen! Imps of deceit! [_Looking from one to the other._]
There was a ball at Durnstone last night. I know it.
SHEBA.
Spare us!
SALOME.
You couldn"t have been there, Papa!
THE DEAN.
There! I trust I was better--that is, otherwise employed. [_Referring to the bill._] Which of my hitherto trusted daughters was a lady--no, I will say a person--of the period of the French Revolution?
[_SHEBA points to SALOME._
THE DEAN.
And a flower-girl of an unknown epoch. [_SALOME points to SHEBA._] To your respective rooms! [_The girls cling together._] Let your blinds be drawn. At seven porridge will be brought to you.
SALOME.
Papa!
THE DEAN.
Go!
SHEBA.
Papsey!
THE DEAN.
Go!
SALOME.
Papa, we, poor girls as we are, can pay the bill.
THE DEAN.
You cannot--go!
SHEBA.
Through the kindness of our Aunt----
SALOME.
We have won fifty pounds.
THE DEAN.
What!
SHEBA.
At the Races!
THE DEAN.
[_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!
SHEBA.
[_Sobbing._] We always knew a little more than you gave us credit for, Papa.
THE DEAN.
[_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 sh.e.l.l 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._
SIR TRISTRAM.
Good heavens, Jedd! the a.n.a.lysis has arrived!
THE DEAN.
I am absolutely indifferent!
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
Indifferent!
THE DEAN.