MARY [chuckling]. The--the Bishop of Benares.

AUNTIE. The--the . . . Oh, it's your _uncle_ I am . . . [To
Manson]. By-the-bye, has the postman been yet?

MANSON [at the window]. I can see him coming up the lane. He's
stopped at the next house.

AUNTIE. Oh, then, Mary: will you very much mind if you don't have
breakfast with us this morning? I want to have a private talk with
your uncle.

MARY. Oh, auntie, dear! . . .

AUNTIE. Don't think of yourself, dear-- Remember, there are other
people in the world besides you. Go down into the village, and
have breakfast with poor old Grannie Durden. Take her some nice
new-laid eggs and a pat of butter-- Poor soul, it would be a
charity!

MARY. Oh, auntie, she's as deaf as a post!

AUNTIE. Dearest!--Remember what your uncle said last Sunday about
_Pure religion and undefiled_! He mentioned Mrs. Durden only a
week ago; but I forgot. Now, run along.

MARY [reluctantly]. Very well, auntie.

[She goes out by the main door.]