MARY. Um! I must say, I didn't notice any difference myself; but
that's what she said.
She agreed with you, that wishing was the only way; and if you
didn't know how, then you had to keep on wishing to wish, until you
could.
MANSON. And so . . .
MARY. Well, that's as far as I've got.
[ROGERS re-enters.]
MANSON. Yes, what is it, Rogers?
ROGERS. Cook's compliments, Mr. Manson, and might she make so bold
as to request your presence in the kitchen, seein' as she's 'ad no
orders for lunch yet. O' course, she says, it will do when you've
_quite_ finished any private business you may 'av' in the upper
part of the 'ouse!
[He delivers this with distinct hauteur. MANSON, smiling, goes up
to him and takes his head in his hands.]
MANSON. Why do you dislike me so, Rogers?
ROGERS [taken aback]. Me? Me dislike you, Mr. Manson? _Oh no_!
MANSON. Come along, little comrade.
[They go out like brothers, MANSON'S arm round the lad's shoulders.]
[MARY is left seated on the table, chuckling at the situation.
Suddenly her face becomes serious again: she is lost in thought.
After a while she speaks softly to herself.]
MARY. What have I needed most? What have I not had? . . . Oh! I
know! . . .
[Her face flames with the sudden inspiration.]
And I never dreamed of it till now!
[ROBERT enters by the main door. The child turns round, and,
seeing him, gives a startled little cry. They stand facing each
other, silent. Presently ROBERT falters.]
ROBERT. Beg pawdon, miss: I . . .
MARY. Who are you? What are you doing here?
ROBERT. I'm . . .