Robert. Please, Sir, it's on'y just come, Sir.
Mr. S. (snatching the paper from him, and tearing it open; the other members of the family crowd round excitedly). Now we shall see! Where's the place? Confound the thing! Why can't they print the result in a——(His face falls.) What are you waiting for, Sir? Leave the room!
[To Robert, who has lingered about the sideboard.
Robert. Beg pardon, Sir, but would you mind reading out the Word—'cause I'm——
The Family. Read the Word, Papa, do!
Mr. S. (keeping the Journal). All in good time. (Addressing Robert.) Am I to understand, Sir, that you have actually had the presumption to engage in this competition?—an uneducated young rascal like you!
Robert. I didn't mean no harm, Sir, I sent in nothink—it was on'y a lark, Sir!
The Family (dancing with suspense). Oh, never mind Robert now, Father—do read out the Word!
Mr. S. (ignoring their anxiety). If you sent in nothing, Sir, so much the better. But, in case you should be tempted to such a piece of infatuation in future, let me tell you this by way of—ah—warning. I and my family, have, with every advantage that superior education and abilities can bestow, sent in, after prolonged and careful deliberation, no less than two hundred and fifty separate solutions, and not a single one of these solutions, Sir, proves to be the correct one!
The Family (collapsing on the nearest chairs). Oh, it can't be true—one of them must be right!