My dear Mardon, I am of course heartily pleased to revive in this way our old acquaintance. I wish it were in my power to offer you the hospitality of the Deanery--but---- SIR TRISTRAM. Don't name it. My horse and I are over the way at "The Swan." Come and look at Dandy Dick! THE DEAN. Mardon, you don't understand. My position in St. Marvells---- SIR TRISTRAM. Oh, I see, Jedd. I beg your pardon. You mean that the colors you ride in don't show up well on the hill yonder or in the stable of the "Swan" Inn. THE DEAN. You must remember---- SIR TRISTRAM. I remember that in your young days you made the heaviest book on the Derby of any of our fellows. THE DEAN. I always lost, Mardon; indeed, I always lost! SIR TRISTRAM. I remember that you once matched a mare of your own against another of Lord Beckslade's for fifty pounds! THE DEAN. Yes, but she wasn't in it, Mardon--I mean she was dreadfully beaten. SIR TRISTRAM. [_Shaking his head sorrowfully._] Oh Jedd, Jedd--other times, other manners. Good-bye, old boy. THE DEAN. You're not--you're not offended, Mardon? SIR TRISTRAM. [_Taking THE DEAN'S hand._] Offended! No--only sorry, Dean, damned sorry, to see a promising lad come to an end like this. [_GEORGIANA enters with SALOME on one side of her and SHEBA on the other--all three laughing and chatting, apparently the best of friends._] By Jove! No! what--Tidd? GEORGIANA. Hullo, Mardon! [_They shake hands warmly._ SIR TRISTRAM. Of all places in the world, to find "Mr. Tidd!" [_Roaring with laughter._] Ho! ho! ho! GEORGIANA. [_Laughing._] Ha! ha! SIR TRISTRAM. Why, Dean, you've been chaffing me, have you? THE DEAN. No! SIR TRISTRAM. Yes, you have--you've been roasting your old friend! THE DEAN. [_With dignity._] Mardon! SIR TRISTRAM. Tidd is a pal of yours, eh? Ho! ho! GEORGIANA. Ha! ha! THE DEAN. Sir Tristram Mardon, Mrs. Tidman is my sister. SIR TRISTRAM. Your sister? GEORGIANA. Yes, I've been running a bit dark, Mardon, but that stout, well-seasoned animal over there and this skittish creature come of the same stock and were foaled in the same stable. [_Pointing to SALOME and SHEBA._] There are a couple of yearlings here, you don't know. My nieces--Salome and Sheba. SIR TRISTRAM. [_Bowing._] How do you do? [_Heartily taking GEORGIANA'S hand again._] Well, I don't care whose sister you are, but I'm jolly glad to see you, George, my boy. GEORGIANA. Gracious, Tris, don't squeeze my hand so! THE DEAN. [_In horror._] Salome, Sheba, children! I must speak to you. Excuse me, Mardon. [_To himself._] Oh, what shall I do with my widowed sister? [_He goes into the garden._ SHEBA. [_To SALOME._] That's like pa, just as we were getting interested. SALOME. We'll come back in a minute. [_They go out by the window._ SIR TRISTRAM. Lord! How odd! You know your brother and I were at Oxford together, George? GEORGIANA. Were you, Tris! Then are you putting up here? SIR TRISTRAM. He won't have me. GEORGIANA.