How do you feel now, Gus? THE DEAN. Torn to fragments. SIR TRISTRAM. So you are. Thank heaven, he's conscious. THE DEAN. I feel as if I had been walked over carefully by a large concourse of the lower orders! GEORGIANA. So you have been. Thank heaven, his memory is all right. [_HATCHAM'S voice is heard in the distance cheering. They all listen._ SIR TRISTRAM. That's Hatcham; I'll raise his wages. THE DEAN. Do I understand that I have been forcibly and illegally rescued? SIR TRISTRAM. That's it, old fellow. THE DEAN. Who has committed such a reprehensible act? SIR TRISTRAM. A woman who would have been a heroine in any age--Georgiana! THE DEAN. Georgiana, I am bound to overlook it, in a relative, but never let this occur again. SIR TRISTRAM. Tell him. GEORGIANA. You found out that that other woman's plan went lame, didn't you? THE DEAN. I discovered its inefficacy, after a prolonged period of ineffectual whistling. GEORGIANA. But we ascertained the road the genial constable was going to follow. He was bound for the edge of the hill, up Pear Tree Lane, to watch the Races. Directly we knew this, Tris and I made for the Hill. Bless your soul, there were hundreds of my old friends there--welshers, pick-pockets, card-sharpers, all the lowest race-course cads in the kingdom. In a minute I was in the middle of 'em, as much at home as a Duchess in a Drawing-room. SIR TRISTRAM. A Queen in a Palace! GEORGIANA. Boadicea among the Druids! "Do you know me?" I holloaed out. Instantly there was a cry of "Blessed if it ain't George Tidd!" Tears of real joy sprang to my eyes--while I was wiping them away Tris had his pockets emptied and I lost my watch. SIR TRISTRAM. Ah, Jedd, it was a glorious moment! GEORGIANA. Tris made a back, and I stood on it, supported by a correct-card merchant on either side. "Dear friends," I said; "Brothers! I'm with you once again." You should have heard the shouts of honest welcome. Before I could obtain silence my field glasses had gone on their long journey. "Listen to me," I said. "A very dear relative of mine has been collared for playing the three-card trick on his way down from town." There was a groan of sympathy. "He'll be on the brow of the Hill with a bobby in half-an-hour," said I, "who's for the rescue?" A dead deep silence followed, broken only by the sweet voice of a young child, saying, "What'll we get for it?" "A pound a-piece," said I. There was a roar of assent, and my concluding words, "and possibly six months," were never heard. At that moment Tris' back could stand it no longer, and we came heavily to the ground together. [_Seizing THE DEAN by the hand and dragging him up._] Now you know whose hands have led you back to your own manger. [_Embracing him._] And oh, brother, confess--isn't there something good and noble in true English sport after all? THE DEAN.