Matt. That's what holds me back, my wretched nervous fear that I shouldn't bring it off. Still, in justice to Pilcher, I hope you're not going to let his sermon be wasted.
Lucas. Oh, no! My first spare five minutes I'm going to brisk about, and do a bit of New Year's tidying up.
[He is standing over Renie, who has opened his letter in her novel; he again exchanges a secret look of understanding with her, and makes a sign to her to go into the conservatory.
Enter Criddle.
Criddle. [Announcing.] Mr. Pilcher!
Enter the Reverend James Pilcher, a big, strong, bright, genial, manly, hearty English parson about forty. Exit Criddle.
Dolly. How d'ye do? [Shaking hands.
Pilcher. How d'ye do? Happy New Year, once more! Happy New Year, Mr. Barron!
Matt. [Shaking hands.] A happy New Year.
Pilcher. How do again, Telfer?