Mr S. Wanley. Hear, hear. I always seem to agree with you, Miss Graceley.
Mrs Arnold (archly). What is the saying?—great minds always jump alike?
Rev. Mather-Johnstone (sotto voce). Jump?
Mr Porteous (with most distinguished amiability). I really think that this most interesting paper that Miss Vera Potting, M.A., has read to us should be published. It is so—well, so improving, so elevating, so——
Miss Vera Potting, M.A. (who has already fruitlessly sent the essay to every magazine in the country). Oh, Mr Porteous! How can you? Really, I couldn’t think of such a thing.
Rev. Mather-Johnstone, M.A. (who, being not altogether free from jealousy, thinks this is really going a bit too [97] ]far). But perhaps we do not all quite approve of women writers—I mean ladies who write for the wide, rough public.
Mrs Arnold. True! True!... But then, what about Felicia Hemans?
Rev. Mather-Johnstone, M.A. Mrs Hemans was Mrs Hemans. Miss Vera Potting, M.A., is, and I hope will always remain, Miss Vera Potting, M.A.
Mr Porteous. Oh, don’t say that! What I mean is——
(This sort of thing goes on for an hour when, very secretly and as though she were on some nefarious errand, Mrs Arnold disappears from the room. She presently reappears with a maid, who carries a tray of coffee and sandwiches. The dreadful Mr Masefield is then forgotten.]