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.
Blore.
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!
[Drawing the window curtains.
Sir Tristram.
[Having re-entered.] I suppose you want to see the last of me, Jedd.
The Dean.
Mardon!
Georgiana.
Don’t be unkind, Tris. Where shall we stow the dear old chap, Gus, my boy?