He had scarcely said it, when there was a rat-tat at the door:  it was the postman; and what do you think?  IT WAS A LETTER FROM THE BISHOP OF BENARES?

MANSON [anticipating the critics].  What a coincidence!

MARY.  Isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t it just like a fairy-tale?  Wait a bit.  There’s more yet . . .  Here’s the letter:  uncle gave it me for my autographs . . .

[She fishes it out from her pocket.  MANSON reads it aloud, slowly and clearly.]

MANSON. “I shall be with you during to-morrow morning.  If any one will help me, I will restore your church.  Your brother, Joshua.”

MARY [pointing].  And there, do you see, underneath, in brackets:  The Bishop of Benares.

MANSON.  Dear me, dear me, just those few words!

MARY.  Wasn’t it like an answer to prayer?  Auntie saw that at once!

And the odd part about it is, that Uncle William did have a brother Joshua who went away and got lost in India years and years ago!  And to think that he was who he was all the time!  To think of him never writing until yesterday!  To think that before the day is out he will be sitting down here, perhaps in this very place, just like . . .

[She breaks off suddenly, gazing at him; for his eyes have taken a strange fire.]

MANSON.  Just like I am now . . .

MARY [falteringly].  Yes . . .

MANSON.  Talking to you . . .

MARY.  Oh! . . . [She rises, afraid.]

MANSON [softly], Mary . . .

MARY [in a whisper].  Who are you? . . .

MANSON.  I am . . .

[He is interrupted by the great bell of the church, which tolls the Sanctus.  After the third stroke, he continues.]

I am the servant in this house.  I have my work to do.  Would you like to help me?

MARY.  What shall I do?

MANSON.  Help to spin she fairy-tale.  Will you?

MARY.  I will.

MANSON.  Then keep the secret—­Remember!  And wish hard.

MARY.  Do you believe in wishing?

MANSON.  Everything comes true, if you wish hard enough.

MARY.  What shall I wish for?

MANSON.  What have you needed most?  What have you not had?  Think it out.

[Enter AUNTIE in a negligee morning gown.  She has a preoccupied air.  She carries her husband’s coat over her arm.]

AUNTIE.  Oh, I heard you had arrived.  I hope they gave you something to eat when you came in.

MANSON.  Thank you, ma’am:  it will do later.

AUNTIE.  Mary . . .  Dearest . . .

MARY.  Oh, I beg your pardon, auntie dear, I . . .

AUNTIE.  Dreaming again! [Putting her arm round her.] Come, I want you to put your uncle’s coat by the fire.  He will be cold, coming out of that draughty church.

MARY [hugging her].  You darling!  I believe you think of nobody but uncle in the world!