you been in England,
Mr. Manson?

MANSON. I landed late last night, if that's what you mean.

ROGERS. Well, I never been in the continong of Asia, where you come from; and there you are!

MANSON [quietly]. Yes: here I am.

[He goes to the sideboard and busies himself with serviettes, mats, etc.]

ROGERS. Perhaps it's this reincarnytion the Daily Mail been writing about. Ever see the Daily Mail out there, Mr. Manson?

MANSON. No: we had few advantages.

ROGERS. Rum idea, reincarnytion! Think, Mr. Manson, perhaps we wos lords once in ancient Babylon, you an' me!

MANSON. And now butler and page-boy, eh?

ROGERS [scratching his head]. Does seem a bit of a come-down, don't it?

MANSON. That's one way of looking at it.

[ROGERS, enticed of Satan, has conveyed a furtive spoonful of jam towards his mouth.]

[Without turning.] Isn't there jam in the kitchen, Rogers?

ROGERS [scared]. Evings! E've got eyes in 'is boots! S'y, do you call it stealing, Mr. Manson?

MANSON. Do you? [Persisting.] Do you?

[ROGERS drops the spoon and moves mournfully away from temptation.]

ROGERS. 'Pon my word, Mr. Manson, you give me the fair creeps and no mistike!

MANSON. You will get over that when you knew me better.

ROGERS. Mr. Manson! Do you mind if I arst you a question?

MANSON. No; what is it?

ROGERS. What d'you wear them togs for? This ain't India.

MANSON. People don't always recognise me in anything else.

[He turns for the first time. His face is one of awful sweetness, dignity, and strength. There is the calm of a great mastery about him, suited to his habit as a servant.]

ROGERS. Garn, Mr. Manson, that's a bit orf! Clothes don't make all that difference, come now! . . .

MANSON. They are the only things the people of this world see.

ROGERS [after a pause]. Excuse me, Mr. Manson, you mek me larf.

MANSON. That's all right, Rogers. I have a sense of humour myself, or I shouldn't be here.

ROGERS [suddenly sentimental]. Talking about clothes, Mr. Manson, I often thinks in my 'ead as I'd like to be a church clergyman, like master. Them strite-up collars are very becoming. Wouldn't you, Mr. Manson?

MANSON. Wouldn't that be rather presuming, Rogers?

ROGERS. Don't you mek no mistike about it! 'Ere! [He grows confidential.] You are a butler, ain't you? Ain't you, now? . . .

MANSON. Something like that.

ROGERS. Well, perhaps master 'asn't allus been as 'igh— See! O' course, I don't know, but they do s'y as 'e was once only a . . . Wot oh! 'Ere 'e is!

[The VICAR'S voice is heard off.]

VICAR. I shall be in to breakfast at a quarter to nine. Don't wait for me, dearest.

[He enters hurriedly from door, right, watch in hand. He has on his cassock and biretta.]

So awkward— Both my curates down with the whooping-cough!
To-day, too! Just when I was expecting . . .

[As he goes up stage, left of table, MANSON comes down, right, with serviettes. The VICAR wheels round slowly, facing him. Observing his astonishment, ROGERS steps forward with explanation.]

ROGERS. It's the new butler, sir. Mr. Manson, sir.

VICAR. Surely, I—I've seen you somewhere before.

MANSON [looking at him]. Have you, sir?

VICAR. Hm! No, I can't quite . . .

ROGERS. Beg pardon, sir: getting on for eight.

[He hands him a small silver paten upon which there is a piece of bread.]

VICAR [Taking it mechanically]. Hm! These mysteries are not always helpful . . . Anyway, I'm glad to see you, Manson. When did you arrive?

[He begins to break the bread into fragments whilst talking.]

MANSON. Early this morning, sir. I should have come sooner; but I had a little trouble down at the Customs.

VICAR. Indeed! How was that?

MANSON. They said something about the new Alien Act, sir.

VICAR. Of course, of course. Er . . . You speak English remarkably well.

MANSON. I have seen a good deal of the English, one time and another.

VICAR. That's good: it will save a lot of explanation. By-the-bye . . .

My 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