Lydia [indifferently]. So?
Harriet. No member of the Wilde family has ever held such ideas. It is quite irregular.
Lydia. What does he think?
Harriet. I don't know that I can tell you clearly. It is all so distasteful to me. But he declares—even in contradiction to my explanation—that after death we continue our earthly occupations,—that is, our studies, our ambitions—
Lydia. That is a wonderful idea.
Harriet [not noticing]. That if we die before accomplishing anything on earth, we have a chance in the after-life to work. Work! Imagine! In fact he pictures Heaven as a place where people are—doing things.
Lydia [lifting her head and smiling]. Oh, that is beautiful—I mean, what did you tell him?
Harriet [reverently]. I explained very carefully that Heaven is peace, peace. That the first thing we do when a dear one dies, is to pray for the eternal rest of his soul.
Lydia [dully]. Oh.
Harriet. Yes, Lydia, I am glad to see that you share my distress. Why—he desecrates the conception of Heaven with workmen, artists, inventors, musicians—anything but angels.