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lk of die great churches he built out there! . . . MANSON. Churches? MARY. Yes; didn't he? MANSON. He built one. MARY. What's it like? MANSON. Those who have seen it say there is nothing like it on earth. MARY [eagerly]. Have you seen it? MANSON. I was there when he built it. MARY. From the very beginning? MANSON [solemnly]. From the beginning. [MARY pauses before speaking: then she says, slowly.] MARY. I hope I _shall_ like him. Is he--is he anything like you? [MANSON regards her silently for a moment.] MANSON. How is it that you know so little about him? MARY. Well, you see, I only heard yesterday. MANSON. I thought you said his name was on everybody's _lips_. MARY. You don't understand. I mean, I never knew that he had anything to do with _me_--that he was my father's brother. MANSON. Didn't _he_ know? MARY. Who--father? Oh, you see, I. . . _I don't know my father_ . . . . . . Uncle William didn't know anything about it until yesterday. MANSON. Hm! That is strange, too! MARY. There's a bit of a mystery about it altogether. Would you like to hear? It is rather like a fairy-tale. MANSON. It must be. Yes, do go on. MARY. It was all through Uncle William's Restoration Fund. You see, our old church is in a perfectly rotten state of decay, and naturally it would take a lot to repair it: so uncle thought of starting a Fund--Yes! Wasn't it clever of him?--I addressed all the envelopes. Would you believe it, we couldn't get a single halfpenny! Isn't it a shame?--Such a nice old church, too! MANSON. How was that? MARY. That's the question! People have been most rude! Oh, the letters we have had! The funny thing is, for all their fault-finding, they none of them agree with each other!--Some say the foundations are all wrong: some don't like the stained-glass windows; but if you ask me . . . MANSON. Yes, what do you think? MARY. Well, uncle won't hear of it; but I can't help thinking old Bletchley is right . . . MANSON. Who's he? MARY. Oh, he's a dreadfully wicked man, I know that-- He's the quack doctor in the village: he's--he's _an atheist_! . . . MANSON. Well, what does he think is the matter? MARY. He says it's the DRAIN! MANSON. The--the drain? . . . MARY. Um! You know, in spite of what uncle says, there is a smell: I had it in my nose all last Sunday morning. Up in the choir it's bad enough, and r
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