ur_

Perhaps we are all somnambulists moving about in this dream-world we
call practical life. Behind this tough matter that takes so many shapes
and colors, what strange secrets are hidden, just beginning to reach our
dull senses--X-rays, radium emanations, wireless waves.

_Bellows_

Oh, they're natural enough now. Common sense has adopted them.

_Seymour_

Yes, we are easily satisfied. Give a mystery a name and that's enough
for the most of us. But here and there are minds that must explore
further; and if they discover something beyond the comprehension of us
who stay behind, we call them mad.

_Bellows_

Well, none of your mind-puzzles for me. Give me something clear cut,
like typhoid, or measles, an amputation, or new babies, something I can
fix my eyes on. You can take care of the madmen--except when they're
in my own village. I'm not going to have a boy like Philo gibbering
around ready to break out wild any time.

_Seymour_

It's true he may be led into frenzy, or even self-destruction, but it
will be from overwork and loneliness. I must have a talk with the
parents----

_Bellows_

What do you expect _them_ to do? They're asking us for help. And _I'm_
willing to give it to them.

(_Re-enter_ WARNER _and_ MRS. W. _He carries pitcher, she carries
tray with glasses._)

_Seymour_ (_to_ BELLOWS)

We'll see. As I say, the boy has been losing sleep, and giving his mind
no rest.

_Mrs. W._ (_holding tray while_ WARNER _pours cider_)

Just what I say, doctor. He's studied himself sick.

_Seymour_

You must get him out of here, Mrs. Warner. (_Sipping cider._) Excellent,
indeed!

_Mrs. W._

I'm doing my best.

_Warner_ (_to_ BELLOWS, _who has drained his glass_)

You're at home, doctor. Just help yourself.

(_He does._)

_Seymour_

What is his age?

_Mrs. W._

Twenty. He went early to college.

_Seymour_ (_musingly_)

The usual age. Twenty. (_Sighs._) The age of visions and enchantments.
"The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

_Bellows_

What are you saying, doctor?

_Seymour_

Just thinking. It's a healthy family, isn't it?

_Mrs. W._

I should say! Why, Will and Johnny and Alice----

_Bellows_

Best sort. The thoroughbreds of the town. Temperate, thriving, regular
at church. Warner here was once county supervisor. (_Clapping him on
shoulder._) Never had a better one.

_Seymour_ (_to_ WARNER)

And your parents?

_Warner_

Father was a s