Hatcham.
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.
Sir Tristram.
Keep the stable pitch dark—he mayn’t notice it.
Hatcham.
Not to-night, sir, but he’s a proud ’orse and what’ll 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.
The Dean.
[Looking reproachfully at Georgiana.] You have returned, Georgiana?
Georgiana.