Rogers.  Garn, Mr. Manson, that’s a bit orf!  Clothes don’t make all that difference, come now! . . .

Manson.  They are the only things the people of this world see.

Rogers [after a pause].  Excuse me, Mr. Manson, you mek me larf.

Manson.  That’s all right, Rogers.  I have a sense of humour myself, or I shouldn’t be here.

Rogers [suddenly sentimental].  Talking about clothes, Mr. Manson, I often thinks in my ’ead as I’d like to be a church clergyman, like master.  Them strite-up collars are very becoming.  Wouldn’t you, Mr. Manson?

Manson.  Wouldn’t that be rather presuming, Rogers?

Rogers.  Don’t you mek no mistike about it!  ’Ere! [He grows confidential.] You are a butler, ain’t you?  Ain’t you, now? . . .

Manson.  Something like that.

Rogers.  Well, perhaps master ’asn’t allus been as ‘igh—­ See!  O’ course, I don’t know, but they do s’y as ’e was once only a . . .  Wot oh!  ’Ere ’e is!

[The vicar’s voice is heard off.]

Vicar.  I shall be in to breakfast at a quarter to nine.  Don’t wait for me, dearest.

[He enters hurriedly from door, right, watch in hand.  He has on his cassock and biretta.]

So awkward—­ Both my curates down with the whooping-cough!  To-day, too!  Just when I was expecting . . .

[As he goes up stage, left of table, Manson comes down, right, with serviettes.  The vicar wheels round slowly, facing him.  Observing his astonishment, Rogers steps forward with explanation.]

Rogers.  It’s the new butler, sir.  Mr. Manson, sir.

Vicar.  Surely, I—­I’ve seen you somewhere before.

Manson [looking at him].  Have you, sir?

Vicar.  Hm!  No, I can’t quite . . .

Rogers.  Beg pardon, sir:  getting on for eight.

[He hands him a small silver paten upon which there is a piece of bread.]

Vicar [Taking it mechanically].  Hm!  These mysteries are not always helpful . . .  Anyway, I’m glad to see you, Manson.  When did you arrive?

[He begins to break the bread into fragments whilst talking.]

Manson.  Early this morning, sir.  I should have come sooner; but I had a little trouble down at the Customs.

Vicar.  Indeed!  How was that?

Manson.  They said something about the new Alien Act, sir.

Vicar.  Of course, of course.  Er . . .  You speak English remarkably well.

Manson.  I have seen a good deal of the English, one time and another.

Vicar.  That’s good:  it will save a lot of explanation.  By-the-bye . . .

My old friend in Brindisi, who recommended you, writes that you bore a very excellent character with your late employer in India; but there was one matter he didn’t mention—­ No doubt you will recognise its importance in a clergyman’s family—­ He never mentioned your religion.