MANSON. In _this_ world: that sounds rather like . . . Does he give free libraries?

MARY. I can't say I ever heard of that; but he does things quite as wonderful! Listen! What do you think of the BISHOP OF BENARES!!

MANSON [unimpressed]. Oh, it's the--Bishop of Benares, is it?

MARY. I must say, you don't seem very surprised! Surely you've heard of him? He _comes_ from India.

MANSON [quietly]. I happen to know him.

VICAR. No, really: this is most interesting!

MANSON. As a man might know _his own soul_, sir--As they say in India. His work has been mine, so to speak.

VICAR. Bless me, you will know him better than I do. I have never seen him since I was quite a little lad.

MARY [with prodigious solemnity]. Just you think, Manson! He's my uncle--my own father's brother!

[MANSON is now up stage between the two.]

MANSON. _Your_ brother, sir?

VICAR [fervently]. I am grateful to G.o.d for it, Manson: he is.

[MANSON regards him calmly for a moment: then he turns inquiringly towards Mary.]

MANSON. Then--Miss Mary? . . .

VICAR [quickly]. Oh, my niece is the daughter of--of my other brother.

MANSON. I see: _two_ brothers?

VICAR [shortly]. Yes, yes, I have: I--I had.

MANSON [resuming his work at the table]. Thank you, sir: it's always helpful, coming to a new place, to know who are--and who are not--the family connections.

VICAR. Come, Rogers! My poor brethren in the church are waiting.

I must see to their necessities at once. [He starts for the door.]

MANSON. Pardon me, sir.

[He hands him the bread which, among those necessities, he has forgotten. The VICAR looks at him a moment in troubled thought, and then goes out, followed by ROGERS.]

ROGERS [at door]. I'll be back to 'elp you in with the breakfast, Mr. Manson. [Exit.]

MARY. Now, Manson: let's talk! You've got nothing more to do? . . .

MANSON. Not till breakfast.

MARY. Then come over here, and make ourselves comfy.

[They go over to the settee: she plumps herself down, gathering her legs up into a little bunch. He seats himself beside her.]

Now! Tell me everything you know about the Bishop of Benares!

MANSON. What--Uncle Josh?

MARY. Ssh--ssh--ssh! That's naughty, you know! You heard what Uncle William said! . . . Do you think he'd very much mind if I called him Uncle Josh?

MANSON. You may take it from _me_, that you may call him whatever you like.

MARY. That's all very well; but you're not Uncle Joshua!

MANSON. No? . . .

MARY [hotly]. No, you're not!

MANSON. Well, since you're so certain . . .

MARY [with conviction]. I'm perfectly certain he'll never stand a kid like me cheeking him and calling him names! Uncle William's quite right! . . . And that's why I've made up my mind that I sha'n't like him, after all!

MANSON. Indeed, I hope you will!

MARY. Do you believe in liking people simply because they're uncles?

MANSON. Perhaps I'm a prejudiced person.

MARY. I know exactly what he'll be--goody-goody, isn't he? You know--religious, and all that!

MANSON. G.o.d forbid!

MARY [fearfully]. Oh, perhaps he's the other sort--like auntie's brother! He's a bishop--the Bishop of Lancashire. You see, I've heard a lot about bishops in my time, and they're not always quite nice men.

MANSON. And what sort is the Bishop of Lancashire?

MARY. Well, I don't think I ought to tell you; but I once heard _Uncle William_ call him a devil!--And he's a clergyman!

MANSON. Your Uncle Joshua's reputation is exactly opposite.

MARY. There is that; everybody speaks awfully well of him.

MANSON. I don't think I would go so far as that: some people blackguard him abominably.

MARY. No!--Who?

MANSON. His clergy, chiefly.

MARY. His clergy! They must be dreadfully wicked men!