MARY ROSE (_vaguely quoting she knows not whom_). The loveliest time of all will be when he is a man and takes me on his knee instead of my taking him on mine. HARRY. Do you see who I am now? MARY ROSE. Nice man. HARRY. Is that all you know about me? MARY ROSE. Yes. HARRY. There is a name I would like to call you by, but my best course is not to worry you. Poor soul, I wonder if there was ever a man with a ghost on his knee before. MARY ROSE. I don’t know. HARRY. Seems to me you’re feared of being a ghost. I dare say, to a timid thing, being a ghost is worse than seeing them. MARY ROSE. Yes. HARRY. Is it lonely being a ghost? MARY ROSE. Yes. HARRY. Do you know any other ghosts? MARY ROSE. No. HARRY. Would you like to know other ghosts? MARY ROSE. Yes. HARRY. I can understand that. And now you would like to go away and play? MARY ROSE. Please. HARRY. In this cold house, when you should be searching, do you sometimes play by yourself instead? MARY ROSE (_whispering_). Don’t tell. HARRY. Not me. You’re a pretty thing. What beautiful shoes you have. (_She holds out her feet complacently._) MARY ROSE. Nice buckles. HARRY. I like your hair. MARY ROSE. Pretty hair. HARRY. Do you mind the tuft that used to stand up at the back of--of Simon’s head? MARY ROSE (_merrily_). Naughty tuft. HARRY. I have one like that. MARY ROSE (_smoothing it down_). Oh dear, oh dear, what a naughty tuft. HARRY. My name is Harry. MARY ROSE (_liking the pretty sound_). Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry. HARRY. But you don’t know what Harry I am. MARY ROSE. No. HARRY. And this brings us no nearer what’s to be done with you. I would willingly stay here though I have my clearing in Australy, but you’re just a ghost. They say there are ways of laying ghosts, but I am so ignorant. MARY ROSE (_imploringly_). Tell me. HARRY. I wish I could; you are even more ignorant than I am. MARY ROSE. Tell me. HARRY. All I know about them for certain is that they are unhappy because they can’t find something, and then once they’ve got the thing they want, they go away happy and never come back. MARY ROSE. Oh, nice. HARRY. The one thing clear to me is that you have got that thing at last, but you are too dog-tired to know or care. What you need now is to get back to the place you say is lovely, lovely. MARY ROSE. Yes, yes. HARRY. It sounds as if it might be Heaven, or near thereby. (_She wants him to find out for her._) Queer, you that know so much can tell nothing, and them that know nothing can tell so much. If there was any way of getting you to that glory place! MARY ROSE. Tell me. HARRY (_desperate_). He would surely send for you, if He wanted you. MARY ROSE (_crushed_). Yes. HARRY. It’s like as if He had forgotten you. MARY ROSE. Yes. HARRY. It’s as if nobody wanted you, either there or here. MARY ROSE. Yes. (_She rises._) Bad man.