_Sir P._ Bleshugh! What have you done? _Lord Blesh._ (_sternly_). Saved _him_ from an untimely end--and _you_ from--crime! _Collapse of_ Sir P. _Enter_ VERBENA, _terrified._ _Verb._ Papa, Papa, hide me! The night-air and the cold stone steps have restored Mr. Spiker to life and consciousness! He is coming to denounce me--you--both of us! He is awfully annoyed! _Sir P._ (_recklessly_). It is useless to appeal to me, child. I have enough to do to look after myself--now. [_Enter_ SPIKER, _indignant._ _Spiker._ Pretty treatment for a gentleman, this! Look here, Poshbury, this young lady has choked me with a cushion, and then pitched me down the front steps--I might have broken my neck. _Sir P._ It was an oversight which I lament, but for which I must decline to be answerable. You must settle your differences with her. _Spiker._ And you too, old horse! _You_ had a hand in this, I know, and I’ll pay you out for it now. My life ain’t safe if I marry a girl like that, so I’ve made up my mind to split and be done with it! _Sir P._ (_contemptuously_). If _you_ don’t, Blethers _will_. So do your worst, you hound! _Spiker._ Very well then; I will. (_To the rest._) I denounce this man for travelling with a half-ticket from Edgware Road to Baker Street on his thirteenth birthday, the 31st of March twenty-seven years ago this very day! [_Sensation._ _Blethers._ Hear me! It was _not_ his thirteenth birthday; Sir Poshbury’s birthday falls on the 1st of April--_to-morrow_! I was sent to register the birth, and, by a blunder, which I have repented bitterly ever since, unfortunately gave the wrong date. Till this moment I have never had the manliness or sincerity to confess my error, for fear of losing my situation. _Sir P._ (_to_ SPIKER). Do you hear, you paltry knave? I was _not_ thirteen. Consequently, I was under age, and the Bye-laws are still unbroken. Your hold over me is gone--gone for ever! _Spiker._ H’m--Spiker spiked this time! [_Retires up disconcerted._ _Lord Bl._ And you did not really love him, after all, Verbena? _Verb._ (_with arch pride_). Have I not proved my indifference? _Lord Bl._ But I forget--you admitted that you were but trifling with my affection--take back your pin-cushion! _Verb._ Keep it. All that I did was done to spare my father! _Sir Posh._ Who, as a matter of fact, was innocent--but I forgive you, child, for your unworthy suspicions. Bleshugh, my boy, you have saved me from unnecessarily depriving myself of the services of an old retainer. Blethers, I condone a dissimulation for which you have done much to atone. Spiker, you vile and miserable rascal, be off, and be thankful that I have sufficient magnanimity to refrain from giving you in charge. (SPIKER _sneaks off crushed._) And now, my children, and my faithful old servant, congratulate me that I am no longer---- _Verbena and Lord Bleshugh_ (_together_). Under the Harrow!