Ted. (after a pause). Yes, Eve, I’m glad of any thing that makes you happy. It has come upon me very suddenly. I never thought of your getting married. I was a great ass, for it must have come about some time or other, and why not now? and it must have been to some fellow, and why not Fred Smailey? God bless you, Eve. I must get it well into my mind before I can talk about it, and mine is a mind that takes a good deal of getting at. I hope and believe that you will be happy. (She retires.)
Fred, old man——
(Goes to Fred; takes his hand and tries to speak, but in vain.)
Enter Mrs. Van Brugh.
Mrs. V. B. Well, I’ve done for myself now; go away from me; I’m a pariah, an outcast; don’t, for goodness’ sake, be seen talking with me.
Eve. Why, mamma, dear, what on earth have you been doing?
Mrs. V. B. Doing? Listen and shudder! I’ve put a Dissenter into my almshouses! (Sits at table.)
Fred. (rising). A Dissenter?
Mrs. V. B. A real live Dissenter. Isn’t it awful!
Fred. No, awful is too strong a term; but I think it was a very, very sad mistake.
Mrs. V. B. A thousand thanks for your toleration—I shall never forget it. The village is outraged—they have stood my eccentricities long enough. It was bad enough when I put a Roman Catholic in, but in consideration of the almshouses being my own they were good enough to swallow the Roman Catholic. Then came a Jew—well, the village was merciful, and with a few wry faces they swallowed even the Jew. But a Dissenter! The line must be drawn somewhere, and High and Low Church are agreed that it must be drawn at Dissenters. The churchwardens look the other way when I pass. The clerk’s religious zeal causes him to turn into the “Red Cow,” rather than touch his hat to me, and even the dirty little boys run after me shouting “No Popery” at the top of their voices, though I’m sure I don’t see how it applies.