FANNY. Another prayer meeting? [_Ernest nods_.] I do keep ’em busy. ERNEST. D’ye know what they call you downstairs? FANNY. What? ERNEST. The family cross. FANNY. I’m afraid it’s about right. ERNEST. What have you been doing _this_ time? Swearing again? FANNY. Worse. I’ve been lying. [_Ernest gives vent to a low whistle_.] Said I didn’t know what had become of that yellow poplin with the black lace flounces, that they’ve had altered for me. Found out that I’d given it to old Mother Potts for the rummage sale at the Vicarage. Jane was down there. Bought it in for half a crown. ERNEST. You are risky. Why, you might have known— _Vernon comes in_. _He is in golfing get-up_. _He throws his cap on to the settee_. VERNON. Hello, got a cup of tea there? _Ernest goes out_. FANNY. Yes. Thought you were playing golf? VERNON. Just had a telegram handed to me in the village—from your friend Newte. Wants me to meet him at Melton Station at five o’clock. [_Looks at his watch_.] Know what he wants? FANNY. Haven’t the faintest idea. [_She hands him his cup_.] Is he coming _here_? Or merely on his way somewhere? VERNON. I don’t know; he doesn’t say. FANNY. Don’t let him mix you up in any of his “ventures.” Dear old George, he’s as honest as the day, but if he gets hold of an “idea” there’s always thousands in it for everybody. VERNON. I’ll be careful. [_Ernest has left the door open_. _The harmonium breaks forth again_, _together with vocal accompaniment as before_.] What’s on downstairs, then—a party? FANNY. Bennet is holding a prayer meeting. VERNON. A prayer meeting? FANNY. One of the younger members of the family has been detected “telling a deliberate lie.” [_Vernon is near the door listening_, _with his back towards her_, _or he would see that she is smiling_.] Black sheep, I suppose, to be found in every flock. [_Music ceases_, _Ernest having arrived with the news of his lordship’s return_.] VERNON [_returning to the table_, _having closed the door_]. Good old man, you know, Bennet. All of them! So high-principled! Don’t often get servants like that, nowadays. FANNY. Seems almost selfish, keeping the whole collection to ourselves. VERNON [_laughs_]. ’Pon my word it does. But what can we do? They’ll never leave us—not one of them. FANNY. No, I don’t believe they ever will. VERNON. Do you know, I sometimes think that you don’t like them. [_Fanny makes a movement_.] Of course, they are a bit bossy, I admit. But all that comes from their devotion, their— FANNY. The wonder to me is that, brought up among them, admiring them as you do, you never thought of marrying one of them. VERNON [_staggered_.] Marrying them?