MARY. Nonsense, Rogers! I like helping.

ROGERS. My poor farver taught me. 'E led a godly, righteous, an'
sober life. 'E was a grocer.

MANSON. Come, Rogers. Take them to the kitchen.

[ROGERS obeys with some asperity of mien. At the door he delivers
a Parthian shot.]

ROGERS. If my poor farver could see what I've seen to-day, 'e
would roll over in 'is grave!

[MANSON opens the door for him. He goes.]

MARY [gayly]. Isn't he funny? Just because his silly old
father . . .

MANSON. Ssh! His father's _dead_, Mary!

[There is a sudden pause. He comes down to her.]

Well, have you thought any more about . . .

MARY. About wishing?--Yes, lots.

MANSON. And have you? . . .

MARY. I don't know what to think. You see, I never believed