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 God and all my brothers.
VICAR [after a pause]. God 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 [embarrassed, 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!
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 God 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
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