_His three children look at each other._ DR. REMNANT. [_Tactfully._] May I go my ways to the library? SARAH. Please do, Doctor Remnant. DR. REMNANT. I flatly contradicted all that was being said in the village. SARAH. Thoughtful of you. DR. REMNANT. But tell me nothing. DR. REMNANT _bows formally and goes_. GEORGE _is about to speak when_ SARAH _with a look at_ MRS. OPIE _says_. . . SARAH. George, hold your tongue. MRS. OPIE. [_With much hauteur._] I am in the way. _At this moment_ DIMMUCK, _an old but unbenevolent-looking butler, comes to the top of the steps_. DIMMUCK. The master wants Mrs. Opie. MRS. OPIE. Thank you. GEORGE. Your triumph! MRS. OPIE _is departing radiant_. DIMMUCK. How was I to know you was in the garden? MRS. OPIE. I am sorry to have put you to the trouble of a search, Mr. Dimmuck. DIMMUCK. He's in his room. _And he follows her towards the house._ GEORGE. Carp fought with him at twelve o'clock. _The other two cannot speak from amazement._ SARAH. No! GEORGE. Why, they didn't tell me and I didn't ask. Carp was laughing. Tatton chuckled . . . afterwards. SARAH. What had he to do? GEORGE. Carp's second. SARAH. Unaccountable children! GEORGE. Feather parade . . . throw in . . . parry quarte: over the arm . . . put by: feint . . . flanconade and through his arm . . . damned easy. The father didn't wince or say a word. I bound it up . . . the sight of blood makes me sick. _After a moment_, SARAH _turns to_ ANN. SARAH. Yes, and you've been a silly child. GEORGE. Ah, give me a woman's guess and the most unlikely reason to account for anything! ANN. I hate that man. I'm glad Papa's not hurt. What about a surgeon? GEORGE. No, you shall kiss the place well, and there'll be poetic justice done. SARAH. How did you all part? GEORGE. With bows and without a word. SARAH. Coming home with him? GEORGE. Not a word. SARAH. Papa's very clever; but I'm puzzled. GEORGE. Something will happen next, no doubt. ANN. Isn't this done with? SARAH. So it seems. ANN. I should like to be told just what the game has been. GEORGE. Bravo, Ann. ANN. Tell me the rules . . . for next time. SARAH. It would have been most advantageous for us to have formed an alliance with Lord John Carp, who stood here for his father and his father's party . . . now in opposition. GEORGE. Look upon yourself--not too seriously--Ann, as the instrument of political destiny. ANN. I'm afraid I take in fresh ideas very slowly. Why has Papa given up the Stamp Office? SARAH. His colleagues wouldn't support him. ANN. Why was that? SARAH. They disapproved of what he did. ANN. Did he do right . . . giving it up? SARAH. Yes. GEORGE. We hope so. Time will tell. An irreverent quipster once named him Carnaby Leech. SARAH. I know. GEORGE. I wonder if his true enemies think him wise to have dropped off the Stamp Office? ANN. Has he quarrelled with Sir Charles? SARAH. Politically. ANN. Isn't that awkward for you? SARAH. Not a bit.