Anderson (going to her and patting her encouragingly on the shoulder).  All right, pet, all right.  He won’t eat you, whoever he is. (She tries to smile, and nearly makes herself cry.  He goes to the door and opens it.  Richard is there, without overcoat or cloak.) You might have raised the latch and come in, Mr. Dudgeon.  Nobody stands on much ceremony with us. (Hospitably.) Come in.  (Richard comes in carelessly and stands at the table, looking round the room with a slight pucker of his nose at the mezzotinted divine on the wall.  Judith keeps her eyes on the tea caddy.) Is it still raining? (He shuts the door.)

Richard.  Raining like the very (his eye catches Judith’s as she looks quickly and haughtily up)—­I beg your pardon; but (showing that his coat is wet) you see—!

Anderson.  Take it off, sir; and let it hang before the fire a while:  my wife will excuse your shirtsleeves.  Judith:  put in another spoonful of tea for Mr. Dudgeon.

Richard (eyeing him cynically).  The magic of property, Pastor!  Are even you civil to me now that I have succeeded to my father’s estate?

Judith throws down the spoon indignantly.

Anderson (quite unruffled, and helping Richard off with his coat).  I think, sir, that since you accept my hospitality, you cannot have so bad an opinion of it.  Sit down. (With the coat in his hand, he points to the railed seat.  Richard, in his shirtsleeves, looks at him half quarrelsomely for a moment; then, with a nod, acknowledges that the minister has got the better of him, and sits down on the seat.  Anderson pushes his cloak into a heap on the seat of the chair at the fire, and hangs Richard’s coat on the back in its place.)

Richard.  I come, sir, on your own invitation.  You left word you had something important to tell me.

Anderson.  I have a warning which it is my duty to give you.

Richard (quickly rising).  You want to preach to me.  Excuse me:  I prefer a walk in the rain. (He makes for his coat.)

Anderson (stopping him).  Don’t be alarmed, sir; I am no great preacher.  You are quite safe. (Richard smiles in spite of himself.  His glance softens:  he even makes a gesture of excuse.  Anderson, seeing that he has tamed him, now addresses him earnestly.) Mr. Dudgeon:  you are in danger in this town.

Richard.  What danger?

Anderson.  Your uncle’s danger.  Major Swindon’s gallows.

Richard.  It is you who are in danger.  I warned you—­

Anderson (interrupting him goodhumoredly but authoritatively).  Yes, yes, Mr. Dudgeon; but they do not think so in the town.  And even if I were in danger, I have duties here I must not forsake.  But you are a free man.  Why should you run any risk?

Richard.  Do you think I should be any great loss, Minister?

Anderson.  I think that a man’s life is worth saving, whoever it belongs to. (Richard makes him an ironical bow.  Anderson returns the bow humorously.) Come:  you’ll have a cup of tea, to prevent you catching cold?