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. . . .