The priest shook his head. Suddenly Mr. Daly ceased his arguments and persuasions. After a little silence, he said: "You cannot sanction this scene, then, Father?"
A positive shake of the head. Mr. Daly looked pensively out of the window.
"Too bad!" he sighed, "too bad!"
The kind old man sighed too, companionably.
"You see, if that scene is not done, the play cannot be done."
"Dear, dear!" murmured the priest.
"And if the play is not done, having nothing else at hand, I shall have to close the season with the old play, and naturally that will mean bad business."
"Too bad, too bad!" muttered the voice, comfortably.
"And if the season ends badly, why, of course, there can be no charity benefit."
"What?" sharply exclaimed the erstwhile calm voice. "No benefit for our poor? Why—why—'er—I—dear me! and the Asylum needs help so badly!—'er—a 'frenzy' you said, my son? Spoken in madness?—'er—I—well—I will give the matter serious thought, and I'll acquaint you with my conclusion," and evidently much disturbed he retired.