[MARY takes the coat to the fire.]
[Surveying the table]. That's very nice, Manson, very nice indeed!
Perhaps, just a little further this way. . . . [Removes flowers.]
My husband is so fond of them. Ye-es; and I wanted things
particularly nice this morning . . .
MARY [at the fire, looking up]. I thought you said you—you didn't expect him till twelve-thirty! . . .
AUNTIE [absorbed]. Whom?
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!