lowing a fly.

IVY. Yes, Mr. Strangway.

STRANGWAY. It isn't enough to love people because they're good to
you, or because in some way or other you're going to get something by
it. We have to love because we love loving. That's the great thing
--without that we're nothing but Pagans.

GLADYS. Please, what is Pagans?

STRANGWAY. That's what the first Christians called the people who
lived in the villages and were not yet Christians, Gladys.

MERCY. We live in a village, but we're Christians.

STRANGWAY. [With a smile] Yes, Mercy; and what is a Christian?

MERCY kicks afoot, sideways against her neighbour, frowns over
her china-blare eyes, is silent; then, as his question passes
on, makes a quick little face, wriggles, and looks behind her.

STRANGWAY. Ivy?

IVY. 'Tis a man--whu--whu----

STRANGWAY. Yes?--Connie?

CONNIE. [Who speaks rather thickly, as if she had a permanent slight
cold] Please, Mr. Strangway, 'tis a man what goes to church.

GLADYS. He 'as to be baptised--and confirmed; and--and--buried.

IVY. 'Tis a man whu--whu's gude and----

GLADYS. He don't drink, an' he don't beat his horses, an' he don't
hit back.

MERCY. [Whispering] 'Tisn't your turn. [To STRANGWAY] 'Tis a man
like us.

IVY. I know what Mrs. Strangway said it was, 'cause I asked her
once, before she went away.

STRANGWAY. [Startled] Yes?

IVY. She said it was a man whu forgave everything.

STRANGWAY. Ah!

The note of a cuckoo comes travelling. The girls are gazing at
STRANGWAY, who seems to have gone of into a dream. They begin
to fidget and whisper.

CONNIE. Please, Mr. Strangway, father says if yu hit a man and he
don't hit yu back, he's no gude at all.

MERCY. When Tommy Morse wouldn't fight, us pinched him--he did
squeal! [She giggles] Made me laugh!

STRANGWAY. Did I ever tell you about St. Francis of Assisi?

IVY. [Clasping her hands] No.

STRANGWAY. Well, he was the best Christian, I think, that ever
lived--simply full of love and joy.

IVY. I expect he's dead.

STRANGWAY. About seven hundred years, Ivy.

IVY. [Softly] Oh!

STRANGWAY. Everything to him was brother or sister--the sun and the
moon, and all that was poor and weak and sad, and animals and birds,
so that they even used to follow him about.

MERCY. I know! He had crumbs in his pocket.

STRANGWAY. No; he had love in his eyes.

IVY. 'Tis like about Orpheus, that