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.
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