“It ’ud cost you more than that before you’d done. Why, Guv’nor, you’d have to turn yourself inside out. You couldn’t wear the clothes—and you couldn’t play the part in the clothes you do wear.”
The old actor’s hand sought his flowing tie with an affectionate touch. “There’s something in what you say, Manning.”
“There’s a lot in it. Bar a parson or a Silver King fixture, you’re not the type for modern parts. Then, again—would you cut your hair short? Not you!”
“No,” said Eliphalet. “Such as I am I have always been. I should certainly decline to transfigure myself.”
“There you are, then! Stick to the old stuff, I say.”
“But I have a yearning for the new.”
Manning shrugged his shoulders.
“You’re the boss,” he said.
“I want to do this play, Manning—very much indeed.” Suddenly he rose dramatically. “Manning!” he exclaimed. “If I am unsuited to the rôle of a Doctor of Medicine, why not alter him to a Doctor of Divinity?”
“Mean changing the whole thing.”