The Servant in the House | Page 5

some don't like the stained-glass windows; but if you ask
me . . .
MANSON. Yes, what do you think?
MARY. Well, uncle won't hear of it; but I can't help thinking old
Bletchley is right . . .
MANSON. Who's he?
MARY. Oh, he's a dreadfully wicked man, I know that-- He's the quack
doctor in the village: he's--he's an atheist! . . .
MANSON. Well, what does he think is the matter?
MARY. He says it's the DRAIN!
MANSON. The--the drain? . . .
MARY. Um! You know, in spite of what uncle says, there is a smell: I
had it in my nose all last Sunday morning. Up in the choir it's bad
enough, and round by the pulpit-- Ugh! I can't think how uncle stands
it!
That's why the people won't come to church-- They say so: they stand
in the market-place listening to old Bletchley, instead of listening to
uncle and trying to be good.
The odd thing Is, it must be that very same drain that's causing the
trouble in uncle's study-- That's his study out there, where they've been
digging: it's where he writes his sermons. You know, _I've_ noticed the
smell for some time, but uncle got so cross whenever I mentioned it,
that I learned to hold my tongue. At last, auntie smelt it, too, and that
soon brought the men in! Ugh! Perhaps you've . . .
MANSON. I have! But what has all this to do with . . .
MARY. Don't get impatient: it's all part of the story. . . . Well, we
thought we should have poor dear Uncle William perfectly ill . . .
MANSON. Because of the drain? . . .
MARY. No, because of the Fund. He tried everything: all his rich
friends, bazaars, jumble-sales, special intercessions--everything! And
nothing seemed to come of it!
Then at last, yesterday morning, he was reading the newspaper, and
there was a long piece about the Bishop of Benares. Uncle read it aloud
to us. Suddenly, in the middle, he broke off and said: _Look at the
power this chap seems to have at the back of him! I wish to God I had

some of it_!
He had scarcely said it, when there was a rat-tat at the door: it was the
postman; and what do you think? IT WAS A LETTER FROM THE
BISHOP OF BENARES?
MANSON [anticipating the critics]. What a coincidence!
MARY. Isn't that wonderful? _Isn't_ it just like a fairy-tale? Wait a bit.
There's more yet . . . Here's the letter: uncle gave it me for my
autographs . . .
[She fishes it out from her pocket. MANSON reads it aloud, slowly and
clearly.]
MANSON. "_I shall be with you during to-morrow morning. If any one
will help me, I will restore your church. Your brother, Joshua_."
MARY [pointing]. And there, do you see, underneath, in brackets: The
Bishop of Benares.
MANSON. Dear me, dear me, just those few words!
MARY. Wasn't it like an answer to prayer? Auntie saw that at once!
And the odd part about it is, that Uncle William did have a brother
Joshua who went away and got lost in India years and years ago! And
to think that he was who he was all the time! To think of him never
writing until yesterday! To think that before the day is out he will be
sitting down here, perhaps in this very place, just like . . .
[She breaks off suddenly, gazing at him; for his eyes have taken a
strange fire.]
MANSON. Just like I am now . . .
MARY [falteringly]. Yes . . .
MANSON. Talking to you . . .
MARY. Oh! . . . [She rises, afraid.]
MANSON [softly], Mary . . .
MARY [in a whisper]. Who are you? . . .
MANSON. I am . . .
[He is interrupted by the great bell of the church, which tolls the
Sanctus. After the third stroke, he continues.]
I am the servant in this house. I have my work to do. Would you like to
help me?
MARY. What shall I do?
MANSON. Help to spin she fairy-tale. Will you?
MARY. I will.

MANSON. Then keep the secret--Remember! And wish hard.
MARY. Do you believe in wishing?
MANSON. Everything comes true, if you wish hard enough.
MARY. What shall I wish for?
MANSON. What have you needed most? What have you not had?
Think it out.
[Enter AUNTIE in a negligee morning gown. She has a preoccupied air.
She carries her husband's coat over her arm.]
AUNTIE. Oh, I heard you had arrived. I hope they gave you something
to eat when you came in.
MANSON. Thank you, ma'am: it will do later.
AUNTIE. Mary . . . Dearest