UNCLE TITUS. (_indignantly_). Be ashamed of yourself, sir—
RICHARD. (_interrupting him and shaking his hand in spite of him_). I am: I am; but I am proud of my uncle—proud of all my relatives (_again surveying them_) who could look at them and not be proud and joyful? (_Uncle Titus, overborne, resumes his seat on the sofa. Richard turns to the table._) Ah, Mr. Anderson, still at the good work, still shepherding them. Keep them up to the mark, minister, keep them up to the mark. Come! (_with a spring he seats himself on the table and takes up the decanter_) clink a glass with me, Pastor, for the sake of old times.
ANDERSON. You know, I think, Mr. Dudgeon, that I do not drink before dinner.
RICHARD. You will, some day, Pastor: Uncle William used to drink before breakfast. Come: it will give your sermons unction. (_He smells the wine and makes a wry face._) But do not begin on my mother’s company sherry. I stole some when I was six years old; and I have been a temperate man ever since. (_He puts the decanter down and changes the subject._) So I hear you are married, Pastor, and that your wife has a most ungodly allowance of good looks.
ANDERSON. (_quietly indicating Judith_). Sir: you are in the presence of my wife. (_Judith rises and stands with stony propriety._)
RICHARD. (_quickly slipping down from the table with instinctive good manners_). Your servant, madam: no offence. (_He looks at her earnestly._) You deserve your reputation; but I’m sorry to see by your expression that you’re a good woman.
(_She looks shocked, and sits down amid a murmur of indignant sympathy from his relatives. Anderson, sensible enough to know that these demonstrations can only gratify and encourage a man who is deliberately trying to provoke them, remains perfectly goodhumored._) All the same, Pastor, I respect you more than I did before. By the way, did I hear, or did I not, that our late lamented Uncle Peter, though unmarried, was a father?
UNCLE TITUS. He had only one irregular child, sir.
RICHARD. Only one! He thinks one a mere trifle! I blush for you, Uncle Titus.
ANDERSON. Mr. Dudgeon you are in the presence of your mother and her grief.
RICHARD. It touches me profoundly, Pastor. By the way, what has become of the irregular child?