MANSON. I have! But what has all this to do with . . .
MARY. Don't get impatient: it's all part of the story. . . . Well, we thought we should have poor dear Uncle William perfectly ill . . .
MANSON. Because of the drain? . . .
MARY. No, because of the Fund. He tried everything: all his rich friends, bazaars, jumble-sales, special intercessions—everything! And nothing seemed to come of it!
Then at last, yesterday morning, he was reading the newspaper, and there was a long piece about the Bishop of Benares. Uncle read it aloud to us. Suddenly, in the middle, he broke off and said: Look at the power this chap seems to have at the back of him! I wish to God I had some of it!
He had scarcely said it, when there was a rat-tat at the door: it was the postman; and what do you think? IT WAS A LETTER FROM THE BISHOP OF BENARES?
MANSON [anticipating the critics]. What a coincidence!
MARY. Isn't that wonderful? Isn't it just like a fairy-tale? Wait a bit. There's more yet . . . Here's the letter: uncle gave it me for my autographs . . .
[She fishes it out from her pocket. MANSON reads it aloud, slowly and clearly.]
MANSON. "I shall be with you during to-morrow morning. If any one will help me, I will restore your church. Your brother, Joshua."