ROBERT [burning with enthusiasm, and manifestly affected by her appreciation]. Wait a bit: I got more yet! Talk abaht bee-utiful!--That bit was on'y an ash-pan! Look 'ere, ma'am, I got the loveliest little job on as ever yer soiled yer 'ands in! . . . MARY. Oh, do tell us! . . . AUNTIE. ) Yes, do! . . . VICAR. ) Yes, yes! . . . [A splendid rapture infects them all.] ROBERT. I followed up that drain--_I_ wasn't goin' to stick till kingdom come inside your little mouse-'ole out there: No, I said, _Where's this leadin to? What's the 'ell-an-glory use o' flushin' out this blarsted bit of a sink, with devil-know-wot stinkin' cess-pool at the end of it_! That's wot I said, ma'am! . . . AUNTIE. Very rightly! I see! I see! . . . ROBERT. So up I go through the sludge, puffin' an' blowin' like a bally ole cart-'orse--strooth, it seemed miles! Talk abaht bee-utiful, ma'am, it ud 'a' done your 'eart good, it would really! _Rats_!--'Undreds on em, ma'am: I'm bitten clean through in places! 'Owever, I pushed my way through, somehow, 'oldin' my nose an fightin' for my breath, till at last I got to the end--_and then I soon saw wot was the matter_! . . . It's under the church--that's where it is! I know it's the church, cos I 'eard "The Church's One Foundation" on the orgin, rumblin' up over my 'ead! Well, I . . . ALL. Yes . . . yes . . . AUNTIE. Why don't you go on? . . . ROBERT. You'd never guess wot I saw there, not if you was to try from now till glory 'allelooyer! . . . The biggest back-'ander, I ever did 'av', swelp me! . . . [They hang on his words expectantly.] IT AIN'T NO DRAIN AT ALL! ALL [breathlessly]. Why, what is it, then? . . . ROBERT. IT'S A GRIVE! ALL. A grave! . . . ROBERT. Yus, one o' them whoppin' great beer-vaults as you shove big bugses' corpses inter! What d'yer think o' that now? MARY. ) Oh! . . . AUNTIE. ) Horrible! . . . VICAR. I seem to remember some tradition . . . ROBERT, You'd 'a' said so if you'd seen wot I seen! Talk abaht corfins an' shrouds an' bones an' dead men gone to rot, they wasn't in it, wot I saw dahn there! Madame Twosoes is a flea-bite to it! Lord!--I never thought there could be such a lot o' muck an' dead things all in one place before! It was a fair treat, it was, I tek my oath! . . . [Rapturously]. Why--why, it may cost a man 'is LIFE to deal with that little job! VICAR. My God! The thing's impossible! ROBERT. Impossible! Means a bit of work, that's all! VICAR. Why, no one would ever dare . . . ROBERT. Dare! Why, wot d'you think I come 'ere for? . . . VICAR. _You_! . . . ROBERT. Yus--makin' myself unpleasant . . . VICAR. Do you mean . . . Do I understand . . . ROBERT. I mean as I've found _my place_, or I don't know a good thing when I see it! AUNTIE. What! To go into that dreadful vault, and . . . ROBERT. Why not: ain't it my job? AUNTIE. But you said--perhaps--_death_ . . . ROBERT. It's worth it, it's a lovely bit of work!