SHEBA. Oh, _I_ don't think so. GEORGIANA. H'm! Now I understand why my foot was always in the way under the dinner-table. [_She holds out two cups, which the girls take from her._ SALOME. I thought the dinner was an overwhelming success. SHEBA. All our dinners are at the Deanery. GEORGIANA. Awfully jolly. Mutton was overdone. SALOME. That's our new cook's one failing. GEORGIANA. But the potatoes weren't--they rattled. SHEBA. Cook never can manage potatoes. GEORGIANA. What was wrong with the custards? SALOME. Well, it was Cook's first attempt at custards. GEORGIANA. However, they served one useful end. Now we _know_ the chimney wants sweeping. SALOME. But it was a frightfully jolly dinner--take it all round. SHEBA. Yes, take it all round. One has to take things all round. GEORGIANA. What made us all so sad and silent--taking us all round? SHEBA. Dear Papa was as lively as an owl with neuralgia. GEORGIANA. Major Tarver isn't a conversational cracker. SALOME. Gerald Tarver has no liver--to speak of. GEORGIANA. He might have spoken about his lungs or something, to cheer us up. SHEBA. I fancy Mr. Darbey was about to make a witty remark once. GEORGIANA. Yes, and then the servant handed him a dish and he shied at it. So we lost that. SALOME. Still, we ought to congratulate ourselves upon--upon a---- SHEBA. Upon a--upon a---- GEORGIANA. Upon a frightfully jolly dinner. [_Taking her betting book from her pocket._] Excuse me, girls. I've some figures to work out. If Dandy Dick hasn't fed better at the "Swan" than we have at the Deanery, he won't be in the first three. [_Reckoning._] Let me see. SALOME. [_To SHEBA._] All's settled, Sheba, isn't it? SHEBA. [_To SALOME._] Yes--everything. Directly the house is silent we let ourselves out at the front door. SALOME. How do we get in again? SHEBA. By this window. It has a patent safety fastening, so it can be opened with a hairpin. SALOME. We're courageous girls, aren't we? SHEBA. Yes, I don't consider we're ordinary young ladies, at all. SALOME. If we had known Aunt a little longer we might have confided in her and taken her with us. SHEBA. Poor Aunt--we mustn't spoil her. DARBEY. [_Speaking outside._] I venture to differ with you, my dear Dean. GEORGIANA. Here come the wax-works! [_She joins the girls as DARBEY enters through the Library, patronizing THE DEAN, who accompanies him._ DARBEY. Haw! I've just been putting the Dean right about a little army question, Mrs.--Mrs.---- I can't catch your name. GEORGIANA. Don't try--you'd come out in spots, like measles. [DARBEY _stands by her, blankly, then attempts a conversation._ THE DEAN. [_To SALOME and SHEBA._] Children, it is useless to battle against it much longer. SALOME. Against what, Papa? THE DEAN. A feeling of positive distaste for Mr. Darbey. SHEBA. Oh, Papsey--think what Wellington was at his age. _MAJOR TARVER enters, pale and haggard._ _SALOME meets him._ SALOME.