MARY [embarrassed, blurting]. We were wondering last night about
your religion. I said . . .

VICAR. Mary, my child . . .

MARY. You don't _look_ like a cannibal. After all, even the devil
isn't as black as he's . . . Oh, I beg your pardon: perhaps I'm
rude.

VICAR. Yes, indeed you are. Don't take any notice of our little
feather-brain, Manson.

MARY. I say, has uncle told you who's coming to-day?

MANSON. No.

MARY. Not about Uncle Josh?

VICAR. T-t-t! You mustn't call your uncle Joshua that! It is
irreverent. He may resent it.

MARY. You know, _you'll_ make me positively dislike him! Just
fancy, Manson, meeting an uncle whom you've never so much as set
eyes on before! I don't even know what he looks like.

[She is looking MANSON in the face. He returns her gaze curiously.]

MANSON. Then--you have a surprise in store.