BARBARA. No. Not one. There are neither good men nor scoundrels: there are just children of one Father; and the sooner they stop calling one another names the better. You needn't talk to me: I know them. I've had scores of them through my hands: scoundrels, criminals, infidels, philanthropists, missionaries, county councillors, all sorts. They're all just the same sort of sinner; and there's the same salvation ready for them all. UNDERSHAFT. May I ask have you ever saved a maker of cannons? BARBARA. No. Will you let me try? UNDERSHAFT. Well, I will make a bargain with you. If I go to see you to-morrow in your Salvation Shelter, will you come the day after to see me in my cannon works? BARBARA. Take care. It may end in your giving up the cannons for the sake of the Salvation Army. UNDERSHAFT. Are you sure it will not end in your giving up the Salvation Army for the sake of the cannons? BARBARA. I will take my chance of that. UNDERSHAFT. And I will take my chance of the other. [They shake hands on it]. Where is your shelter? BARBARA. In West Ham. At the sign of the cross. Ask anybody in Canning Town. Where are your works? UNDERSHAFT. In Perivale St Andrews. At the sign of the sword. Ask anybody in Europe. LOMAX. Hadn't I better play something? BARBARA. Yes. Give us Onward, Christian Soldiers. LOMAX. Well, that's rather a strong order to begin with, don't you know. Suppose I sing Thou'rt passing hence, my brother. It's much the same tune. BARBARA. It's too melancholy. You get saved, Cholly; and you'll pass hence, my brother, without making such a fuss about it. LADY BRITOMART. Really, Barbara, you go on as if religion were a pleasant subject. Do have some sense of propriety. UNDERSHAFT. I do not find it an unpleasant subject, my dear. It is the only one that capable people really care for. LADY BRITOMART [looking at her watch] Well, if you are determined to have it, I insist on having it in a proper and respectable way. Charles: ring for prayers. [General amazement. Stephen rises in dismay]. LOMAX [rising] Oh I say! UNDERSHAFT [rising] I am afraid I must be going. LADY BRITOMART. You cannot go now, Andrew: it would be most improper. Sit down. What will the servants think? UNDERSHAFT. My dear: I have conscientious scruples. May I suggest a compromise? If Barbara will conduct a little service in the drawingroom, with Mr Lomax as organist, I will attend it willingly. I will even take part, if a trombone can be procured. LADY BRITOMART. Don't mock, Andrew. UNDERSHAFT [shocked--to Barbara] You don't think I am mocking, my love, I hope. BARBARA. No, of course not; and it wouldn't matter if you were: half the Army came to their first meeting for a lark. [Rising] Come along. Come, Dolly. Come, Cholly. [She goes out with Undershaft, who opens the door for her. Cusins rises]. LADY BRITOMART. I will not be disobeyed by everybody. Adolphus: sit down. Charles: you may go. You are not fit for prayers: you cannot keep your countenance.