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My mother says that my bowing is something like Joachim's, and she ought to know.
SHEBA.
Why?
DARBEY.
Oh, because she's heard Joachim.
[_DARBEY plays and SHEBA accompanies him. SALOME sits beside TARVER._
GEORGIANA.
[_To herself._] Well, after all, George, my boy, you're not stabled in such a bad box! Here is a regular pure, simple, English Evening at Home!
THE DEAN.
[_Mumbling to himself._] A thousand pounds to the Restoration Fund and all those bills to settle--oh dear! oh dear! What shall I do?
SALOME.
[_To herself._] I hope my ball-dress will drive all the other women mad!
TARVER.
[_To himself--glaring at DARBEY._] I feel I should like to garrote him with his ba.s.s string.
GEORGIANA.
[_Frowning at her betting book._] I think I shall hedge a bit over the Crumbleigh Stakes.
DARBEY.
[_As he plays, glancing at TARVER._] I wonder how old Tarver's Chest C likes a holiday.
SHEBA.
[_As she plays._] We must get Pa to bed early. Dear Papa's always so dreadfully in the way.
GEORGIANA.
[_Looking around._] No--there's nothing like it in any other country.
A regular, pure, simple, English Evening at Home!
_BLORE enters quickly, cutting "The Times" with a paper-knife as he enters._
BLORE.
The paper's just arrived.
[_The music stops abruptly--all the ladies glare at BLORE and hush him down._
GEORGIANA, SALOME, _and_ SHEBA.
Sssssh!
THE DEAN.
[_Taking the paper from BLORE._] This is my fault--there may be something in "The Times" of special interest to me. Thank you, Blore.
[_BLORE goes out._
TARVER.
Ha, ha, ha! spoilt his pianissimo!
THE DEAN.
[_Scanning the paper._] Oh, I can't believe it!
GEORGIANA.
What's the matter?
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
Papa!
TARVER _and_ DARBEY.
The Dean!
THE DEAN.
Children! Georgiana! Friends! My munificent offer has produced the desired result.
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
Oh!
THE DEAN.
Seven wealthy people, including three brewers, have come forward with a thousand pounds apiece in aid of the restoration of the Minster Spire!
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
[_Horrified._] Ah!
GEORGIANA.
