Wot oh! 'Ere 'e is!

[The VICAR'S voice is heard off.]

VICAR. I shall be in to breakfast at a quarter to nine. Don't wait for me, dearest.

[He enters hurriedly from door, right, watch in hand. He has on his ca.s.sock and biretta.]

So awkward-- Both my curates down with the whooping-cough!

To-day, too! Just when I was expecting . . .

[As he goes up stage, left of table, MANSON comes down, right, with serviettes. The VICAR wheels round slowly, facing him. Observing his astonishment, ROGERS steps forward with explanation.]

ROGERS. It's the new butler, sir. Mr. Manson, sir.

VICAR. Surely, I--I've seen you somewhere before.

MANSON [looking at him]. Have you, sir?

VICAR. Hm! No, I can't quite . . .

ROGERS. Beg pardon, sir: getting on for eight.

[He hands him a small silver paten upon which there is a piece of bread.]

VICAR [Taking it mechanically]. Hm! These mysteries are not always helpful . . . Anyway, I'm glad to see you, Manson. When did you arrive?

[He begins to break the bread into fragments whilst talking.]

MANSON. Early this morning, sir. I should have come sooner; but I had a little trouble down at the Customs.

VICAR. Indeed! How was that?

MANSON. They said something about the new Alien Act, sir.

VICAR. Of course, of course. Er . . . You speak English remarkably well.

MANSON. I have seen a good deal of the English, one time and another.

VICAR. That's good: it will save a lot of explanation. By-the-bye . . .

My old friend in Brindisi, who recommended you, writes that you bore a very excellent character with your late employer in India; but there was one matter he didn't mention-- No doubt you will recognise its importance in a clergyman's family-- He never mentioned your religion.

MANSON. I can soon remedy that, sir. My religion is very simple.

I love G.o.d and all my brothers.

VICAR [after a pause]. G.o.d and your brothers . . .

MANSON. Yes, sir: _all_ of them.

[The VICAR stands thoughtful for a moment. He places the paten on the table, beside him.]

VICAR [slowly]. That is not always so easy, Manson; but it is my creed, too.

MANSON. Then-- Brother!

[Rapt in thought, the VICAR takes his profferred hand mechanically.]

[MARY enters. She is a slim young girl in her teens, the picture of rosy sweetness and health.]

MARY. Good-morning, Uncle William! Oh! . . . I suppose you're Manson? I must say you look simply ripping! How do you do? My name's Mary. [She offers her hand.]

MANSON [kissing it]. A very dear name, too!

MARY [embarra.s.sed, blurting]. We were wondering last night about your religion. I said . . .

VICAR. Mary, my child . . .

MARY. You don't _look_ like a cannibal. After all, even the devil isn't as black as he's . . . Oh, I beg your pardon: perhaps I'm rude.

VICAR. Yes, indeed you are. Don't take any notice of our little feather-brain, Manson.

MARY. I say, has uncle told you who's coming to-day?

MANSON. No.

MARY. Not about Uncle Josh?

VICAR. T-t-t! You mustn't call your uncle Joshua that! It is irreverent. He may resent it.

MARY. You know, _you'll_ make me positively dislike him! Just fancy, Manson, meeting an uncle whom you've never so much as set eyes on before! I don't even know what he looks like.

[She is looking MANSON in the face. He returns her gaze curiously.]

MANSON. Then--you have a surprise in store.

MARY. _You_ ought to be awfully interested! You will, when you hear where he comes from!

MANSON. I _am_--interested.

MARY. Then guess who he is!

MANSON. Guess--when I know already?

MARY. Oh, Uncle Joshua isn't his only name--don't you think that!

He's a very important person, I can tell you! His name's on everybody's lips!

MANSON [dryly]. Really!

MARY. Can't you guess? . . . Think of the very biggest person you ever heard of in this world!