ey have been telegraphing all
over the place for another speaker: and they can get nobody but the
President of the Agnostic League.

MORELL (promptly). Well, an excellent man. What better do they want?

LEXY. But he always insists so powerfully on the divorce of Socialism
from Christianity. He will undo all the good we have been doing. Of
course you know best; but--(He hesitates.)

CANDIDA (coaxingly). Oh, DO go, James. We'll all go.

BURGESS (grumbling). Look 'ere, Candy! I say! Let's stay at home by the
fire, comfortable. He won't need to be more'n a couple-o'-hour away.

CANDIDA. You'll be just as comfortable at the meeting. We'll all sit on
the platform and be great people.

EUGENE (terrified). Oh, please don't let us go on the platform.
No--everyone will stare at us--I couldn't. I'll sit at the back of the
room.

CANDIDA. Don't be afraid. They'll be too busy looking at James to
notice you.

MORELL (turning his head and looking meaningly at her over his
shoulder). Prossy's complaint, Candida! Eh?

CANDIDA (gaily). Yes.

BURGESS (mystified). Prossy's complaint. Wot are you talking about,
James?

MORELL (not heeding him, rises; goes to the door; and holds it open,
shouting in a commanding voice). Miss Garnett.

PROSERPINE (in the distance). Yes, Mr. Morell. Coming. (They all wait,
except Burgess, who goes stealthily to Lexy and draws him aside.)

BURGESS. Listen here, Mr. Mill. Wot's Prossy's complaint? Wot's wrong
with 'er?

LEXY (confidentially). Well, I don't exactly know; but she spoke very
strangely to me this morning. I'm afraid she's a little out of her mind
sometimes.

BURGESS (overwhelmed). Why, it must be catchin'! Four in the same
'ouse! (He goes back to the hearth, quite lost before the instability
of the human intellect in a clergyman's house.)

PROSERPINE (appearing on the threshold). What is it, Mr. Morell?

MORELL. Telegraph to the Guild of St. Matthew that I am coming.

PROSERPINE (surprised). Don't they expect you?

MORELL (peremptorily). Do as I tell you.

(Proserpine frightened, sits down at her typewriter, and obeys. Morell
goes across to Burgess, Candida watching his movements all the time
with growing wonder and misgiving.)

MORELL. Burgess: you don't want to come?

BURGESS (in deprecation). Oh, don't put it like that, James. It's only
that it ain't Sunday, you know.

MORELL. I'm sorry. I thought you might like to be introduced to the
chairman. He's on the Works Co