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That means a cool thousand out of your pocket, Gus.
THE DEAN.
Yes. [_Reading._] "The anxiety to which The Dean of St. Marvells has so long been a victim will now doubtless be relieved." [_With his hand to his head._] I suppose I shall feel the relief to-morrow.
GEORGIANA.
What's wrong with the Spire? n.o.body sleeps in it?
THE DEAN.
It _is_ a little out of repair--but hardly sufficiently so to warrant the presumptuous interference of three brewers. Excuse me, I think I'll enjoy the fresh air for a moment. [_He goes to the window and draws back the curtains--a bright red glare is seen in the sky._]
Bless me! Look there!
GEORGIANA, SALOME, _and_ SHEBA.
Oh! what's that?
THE DEAN.
It's a conflagration!
SALOME.
[_Clinging to TARVER._] Where is it? Are we safe?
SHEBA.
[_Clinging to DARBEY._] Where is it? Are we safe?
GEORGIANA.
Where is it?
_BLORE enters with a scared look._
THE DEAN.
[_To BLORE._] Where is it?
ALL.
Where is it?
BLORE.
The old Swan Inn's a-fire!
[_The gate-bell is heard ringing violently in the distance. BLORE goes out._
GEORGIANA.
[_Uttering a loud screech._] The Swan Inn! [_Madly._] You girls, get me a hat and coat. Somebody fetch me a pair of boots!
[_SALOME, SHEBA, and TARVER go to the window._
THE DEAN.
Georgiana!
GEORGIANA.
Don't talk to me! [_To TARVER._] Lend me your boots!
TARVER.
I daren't. If I once get cold extremities----
GEORGIANA.
Ah!
[_She is going, THE DEAN stops her._
THE DEAN.
Respect yourself, Georgiana--where are you going?
GEORGIANA.
Going! I'm going to help clear the stables at The Swan!
THE DEAN.
Remember what you are--my sister--a lady!
GEORGIANA.
I'm not. George Tidd's a man, every inch of her! [_SIR TRISTRAM rushes in breathlessly. GEORGIANA rushes at him and clutches his coat._] Tris Mardon, speak!
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Exhausted._] Oh!
GEORGIANA.
The horse? The horse! You've got him out?
