mother's son. These things hast thou done,
and I kept silence: thou thoughtest that I was altogether such an
one as thyself: but I will reprove thee, and set them in order
before thine eyes_. [Footnote: Psalms 1. 19-21]

[He comes down to the middle of the room. MARY enters eagerly.
Seeing him alone, she gives a little cry of gladness.]

MARY. Oh, how jolly! Where are they?

MANSON. In the next room.

MARY. Ah! AH!

[She comes to his out-stretched arms. He folds her to his heart,
facing the audience.]

[Looking up into his face.] Isn't it a great secret? What shall I
call you, now we are alone?

MANSON. Ssh! They may hear you!

MARY. If I whisper . . .

MANSON. They are very near! . . .

[Disengaging himself.] I must be about my business. Is this the
bell to the kitchen?

MARY. Yes. Let me help you.

[MANSON having rung the bell, they begin to remove the breakfast
things. MARY employs herself with the crumb-scoop.]

If auntie and uncle could see me now! If they only knew! I've
kept the secret: I've told nobody! . . .

These will do for the birds. Look, I'll take them now. [She
throws the crumbs out of the French windows.] Poor little mites!
[She returns to the table.]

MANSON. You are fond of the birds?

MARY. Just love them! Don't you?

MANSON, They are my very good friends. Now, take the cassock.
Fold it up and put it on the chair.

[ROGERS enters whilst he gives this command.]

ROGERS. Well, I'm . . .

'Owever, it's no business of mine!

MARY [brightly]. What's up with you, Rogers?

ROGERS [with reservation]. Nuthin', miss. [He fetches the tray.]

MARY. Then why look so solemn?

ROGERS [lugubriously]. Ain't lookin' solemn, miss.

MANSON. Hold up the tray, Rogers.

ROGERS. _Am_ 'oldin' it up, Mr. Manson. MARY [loading him up].
I'm sure there is something the matter!

ROGERS. Well, since you arsk me, miss, it's the goin's on in this
'ouse! I never see such a complicyted mass of mysteries and
improbabilities in my life! I shall 'av' to give in my notice!

MARY. Oh, Rogers, that would be dreadful! Why?

MANSON. Now the cloth, Mary . . .

ROGERS. Cos why? _That's_ why!--What you're doin' now! I likes
people to keep their proper stytion! I was brought up
middle-clarss myself, an' taught to be'ave myself before my
betters!--No offence to you, Mr. Manson! [He says this with a jib,
belying his words.]

MARY. Nonsense, Rogers! I like he