Reginald.  The late Mrs Reginald Bridgenorth.

Leo.  Hold your tongue, Rejjy.  At least have the decency to wait until the decree is made absolute.

Mrs George [to Leo] Well, youve more time to get married again than he has, havnt you?

Mrs Bridgenorth [introducing Hotchkiss] Mr St John Hotchkiss.

Hotchkiss, still far aloof by the study door, bows.

Mrs George.  What!  That! [She makes a half tour of the kitchen and ends right in front of him].  Young man:  do you remember coming into my shop and telling me that my husband’s coals were out of place in your cellar, as Nature evidently intended them for the roof?

Hotchkiss.  I remember that deplorable impertinence with shame and confusion.  You were kind enough to answer that Mr Collins was looking out for a clever young man to write advertisements, and that I could take the job if I liked.

Mrs George.  It’s still open. [She turns to Edith].

Mrs Bridgenorth.  My daughter Edith. [She comes towards the study door to make the introduction].

Mrs George.  The bride! [Looking at Edith’s dressing-jacket] Youre not going to get married like that, are you?

The bishop [coming round the table to Edith’s left] Thats just what we are discussing.  Will you be so good as to join us and allow us the benefit of your wisdom and experience?

Mrs George.  Do you want the Beadle as well?  He’s a married man.

They all turn, involuntarily and contemplate the Beadle, who sustains their gaze with dignity.

The bishop.  We think there are already too many men to be quite fair to the women.

Mrs George.  Right, my lord. [She goes back to the tower and addresses the Beadle] Take away that bauble, Joseph.  Wait for me wherever you find yourself most comfortable in the neighborhood. [The Beadle withdraws.  She notices Collins for the first time].  Hullo, Bill:  youve got em all on too.  Go and hunt up a drink for Joseph:  theres a dear. [Collins goes out.  She looks at Soames’s cassock and biretta] What!  Another uniform!  Are you the sexton? [He rises].

The bishop.  My chaplain, Father Anthony.

Mrs George.  Oh Lord! [To Soames, coaxingly] You dont mind, do you?

Soames.  I mind nothing but my duties.

The bishop.  You know everybody now, I think.

Mrs George [turning to the railed chair] Who’s this?

The bishop.  Oh, I beg your pardon, Cecil.  Mr Sykes.  The bridegroom.

Mrs George [to Sykes] Adorned for the sacrifice, arnt you?

Sykes.  It seems doubtful whether there is going to be any sacrifice.

Mrs George.  Well, I want to talk to the women first.  Shall we go upstairs and look at the presents and dresses?