lping.

ROGERS. My poor farver taught me. 'E led a godly, righteous, an'
sober life. 'E was a grocer.

MANSON. Come, Rogers. Take them to the kitchen.

[ROGERS obeys with some asperity of mien. At the door he delivers
a Parthian shot.]

ROGERS. If my poor farver could see what I've seen to-day, 'e
would roll over in 'is grave!

[MANSON opens the door for him. He goes.]

MARY [gayly]. Isn't he funny? Just because his silly old
father . . .

MANSON. Ssh! His father's _dead_, Mary!

[There is a sudden pause. He comes down to her.]

Well, have you thought any more about . . .

MARY. About wishing?--Yes, lots.

MANSON. And have you? . . .

MARY. I don't know what to think. You see, I never believed
properly in wishing before. Wishing is a dreadfully difficult
thing, when you really set about it, isn't it?

MANSON. Yes.

MARY. You see, ordinary things won't do: they're all wrong,
somehow. You'd feel a bit of a sneak to wish for them, wouldn't
you?

MANSON. Yes.

MARY. Even if you got them, you wouldn't care, after all. They'd
all turn to dust and ashes in your hand.

That last bit is what Grannie Durden said.

MANSON. Who's she?

MARY. She's the poor old woman I've been having breakfast with.
Do you know, she said a funny thing about wishing. I must tell you
first that she's quite blind and very deaf-- Well, she's been
wishing ever so long to see and hear; and at last she says she can!

MANSON. What--see and hear? [He glances towards the drawing-room.]

MARY. Um! I must say, I didn't notice any difference myself; but
that's what she said.

She agreed with you, that wishing was the only way; and if you
didn't know how, then you had to keep on wishing to wish, until you
could.

MANSON. And so . . .

MARY. Well, that's as far as I've got.

[ROGERS re-enters.]

MANSON. Yes, what is it, Rogers?

ROGERS. Cook's compliments, Mr. Manson, and might she make so bold
as to request your presence in the kitchen, seein' as she's 'ad no
orders for lunch yet. O' course, she says, it will do when you've
_quite_ finished any private business you may 'av' in the upper
part of the 'ouse!

[He delivers this with distinct hauteur. MANSON, smiling, goes up
to him and takes his head in his hands.]

MANSON. Why do you dislike me so, Rogers?

ROGERS [taken aback]. Me? Me dislike you, Mr. Manson? _Oh no_!

MANSON. Come along, little comrade.

[They go out like brot