Yes, it does! I am a Christian, and the man has children. LEONARD. He has more creditors than children. Children are creditors too, in a way. ANTHONY. Lucky the man who has neither the one nor the other! LEONARD. But I thought you yourself---- ANTHONY. That’s settled long ago. LEONARD. You’re a cautious man. Of course, you called in your money--as soon as you saw that the old herbalist was going downhill. ANTHONY. Yes, I’ve no need to tremble at losing what I lost long ago. LEONARD. You’re joking. ANTHONY. It’s a fact. CLARA (_looking in_). Did you call, father? ANTHONY. Are your ears burning already? We weren’t talking about you. CLARA. The newspaper! (_Goes._) LEONARD. You’re a philosopher. ANTHONY. What does that mean? LEONARD. You can control yourself. ANTHONY. I sometimes wear a millstone round my neck instead of a collar. That has stiffened my backbone! LEONARD. Let him who can do likewise! ANTHONY. Whoever has so worthy a helper, as I appear to have in you, can surely dance under his burden. Why, you’ve gone quite pale! There’s sympathy for you! LEONARD. I hope you don’t mistake me. ANTHONY. Certainly not. (_Rapping on a cupboard._) Funny thing that you can’t see through wood, isn’t it? LEONARD. I don’t understand you. ANTHONY. How foolish grandfather Adam was to take Eve, although she was stark naked and didn’t even bring a fig-leaf with her. We two, you and I, would have whipped her out of paradise for a vagabond. Don’t you think so? LEONARD. You are annoyed at your son. I came to ask for your daughter’s---- ANTHONY. Stop! Perhaps I might not say “No.” LEONARD. I hope you won’t. And I’ll tell you what I think. Even the holy patriarchs did not despise their wives’ dowries. Jacob loved Rachel and courted her for seven years, but he was pleased, too, with the fat rams and ewes that he earned in her father’s service. It does him no disgrace, to my mind, and I don’t wish to shame him by doing better. I should like to have seen your daughter bring twenty pounds with her. Naturally. It would have been all the better for her, for when a girl brings her bed with her, she doesn’t need to start carding wool and spinning yarn. But she hasn’t got it, and what does it matter? We’ll take lenten soup for Sunday’s dinner, and feast on our Sunday joint at Christmas. We can manage that way. ANTHONY (_shakes his hand_). You speak well, and the Lord approves your words. So I’ll try to forget that my daughter put a cup for you on the tea-table every evening, and you never came for a fortnight. And now that you’re going to be my son-in-law, I’ll tell you where my two hundred pounds have gone. LEONARD (_aside_).