Georgiana.
The old nursery. Toys to play with if you wake early.
The Dean.
[Looking round.] Is there anyone else before we lock up?
[Blore has fastened the window and drawn the curtain.
Georgiana.
Put Sir Tristram to bed carefully in the nursery, Blore.
Sir Tristram.
[Grasping The Dean’s hand.] Good-night, old boy. I’m too done for a hand of Piquet to-night.
The Dean.