{Eric.} Because, sir, a clergyman is the only man in the world privileged to be rude on the subject of another person's calling.

_(Kate approaches them.)_

{Dormer.} A clergyman, sir, is a professional truth-teller.

{Eric.} I've known a common soldier to be a practical one.

{Dormer.} I recognize no profession which creates idlers.

{Eric.} My dear parson, it is the most industrious people who never really do anything. After all, the bees only make honey--and how exceedingly well everybody could get on without honey.

{Dormer.} An idler, sir, often does mischief against his will!

{Kate.} _(laying her hand on his sleeve)_ Mr. Dormer, don't.

{Dormer.} And brings evil into a region where the very purity of the air nourishes it! Mr. Thornd.y.k.e, beware of idling! Miss Verity, beware of idlers.

Good-day, sir. _(crosses to table L., for hat, and then goes up to archway. Kate gets to R., of him)_

{Eric.} _(closing his eyes with fatigue)_ Must you really go? _(takes out "Sporting Times")_

{Kate.} _(soothingly)_ You'll come again, Mr.

Dormer--some day, when Mr. Thornd.y.k.e isn't here.

{Dormer.} _(in an undertone)_ If I come again, see that it be then.

{Kate.} What do you mean?

{Dormer.} _(putting his hand on her shoulder)_ Years ago, Kate Verity, I closed one book for ever-- it was called "Woman." As I see the tide ebb and flow, without pa.s.sion, so I watch a woman in her rise and in her fall with a still heart--they are both beyond me. Mark me, I care no more for you, as a woman, than for the beggars in our High Street; but, for the sake of the charities which stand to the account of one Squire Kate, I throw into the current a small pebble.

{Kate.} _(in an undertone)_ What is that? _(keeps her eyes on Eric)_

{Dormer.} _(pointing in the direction of Eric)_ Repair those old gates, and keep that young gentleman on the other side of them.

{Kate.} Suppose--I--like the young gentleman?

{Dormer.} If he marries in his mother's lifetime he is a pauper.

{Kate.} I know that.

{Dormer.} What business has he here?

{Kate.} It kills time.

{Dormer.} So does the Racquet Court at Pagley Barracks.

{Kate.} A friend likes a friend better than racquets.

{Dormer.} And a woman likes a lover better than a friend. There, I have thrown my pebble--the tide washes it away.

_(Christiana enters from L., carrying mug and a gla.s.s of milk; she gives mug to Dormer and places gla.s.s on table, waits till Dormer has finished, and then takes mug off with her.)_

{Chris.} Will you taste the milk, gentlemen?

_(Dor. stands L., of table--Chris, goes out as Gunnion enters through archway. Gun. is a very old man, a dirty specimen of the agriculturist, with straggling grey hair and an unshaven chin. He wears a battered hat, worsted stockings, and huge boots. He speaks a broad country dialect in a wavering treble key.)_

{Gun.} _(coming down R., c.)_ Mornin', Squire!

{Kate.} _(sitting R., of table)_ Good afternoon, Mr.

Gunnion.

{Gun.} _(seeing Dormer)_ Lord bless my eyesight, there's Parson Dormer, a-drinkin' a mug o' milk, as nat'ral as may be--the very man I wanted for to see.

_(seeing Eric)_ Ay, and there's the young lieutenant --well, he be fond of our bit of a place.

{Eric.} _(raising his head)_ Who's that? _(seeing Gun)_ Oh, are you quite well? _(relapsing)_

{Gun.} I'm an old man, I am. I ain't got a tooth in my yead.

{Eric.} _(dreamily)_ Don't name it.

{Kate.} _(impatiently)_ Have you heard the news, Mr. Gunnion?

{Gun.} I hear as how Gilbert Hythe leaves the Priors, and that I'm to do his dooties.

{Kate.} How do you like the prospect?

{Gun.} I'm an old man, I am. I ain't got a tooth in my yead. But says Gilbert Hythe to me, "Mr.

Gunnion, if you do double dooty, you'll get hadykit remuneration."

{Kate.} Of course you will, Mr. Gunnion.

{Gun.} To which I said, "If I had the chance, I'd die for the Squire."

{Eric.} Give him the chance.

{Kate.} Then that is settled, and you are head man here. You enter on your new duties at once.

{Gun.} Which I shall do all the freer when I've got a burden off my chest. _(Dor. rises as if to leave)_

{Kate.} A burden?

{Gun.} Don't you go, parson, for you're the man to lift it.

{Dormer.} What's the burden, Gunnion? _(Dormer comes down below chair)_

_(Gun. goes up through the archway and calls.)_

{Gun.} _(calling)_ Felicity! _(to Kate)_ My daughter, Squire, _(calling)_ Felicity Gunnion!

_(Felicity enters herefrom R.)_