ound, practical man. Stood flat-footed, I may say.

_Seymour_

And your mother?

_Mrs. W._

Law me, Hiram Warner thinks there was never anybody in the world like
his mother. And there never _was_!

_Seymour_

That's good to build on. It is clear that your boy is ill, and the
burden of his knowledge, whether truth or delusion, is far too great for
him to bear. If you could interest him for even a brief time in ordinary
life--(_smiling_) miracles that are too common to be disturbing--throw
him with young people----

_Bellows_

You don't mean you won't sign the commitment papers!

_Seymour_

Just that. I shall not sign them.

_Mrs. W._ (_gratefully_)

Oh, doctor!

_Bellows_

After what you saw here with your own eyes? He's completely gone off!

_Seymour_

The boy may be right. Under this tiny consciousness of ours lie vast
fields of subconscious intelligence as yet unexplored. Beyond our earth
are still greater mysteries, unimaginable, unthinkable.

_Bellows_ (_in disgust_)

And I counted on your common sense!

_Seymour_

Common sense is itself too frail and uncertain a thing to be a criterion
of sanity. The common sense of yesterday is to-day's folly, and our
present common sense will be the madness of to-morrow.

_Bellows_

Well, I'll be--I'll wait for you down-stairs, doctor. (_Exit._)

_Seymour_

The lad ought not to be in there alone. (_Goes to door._) Philo, my boy!

(PHILO _comes out. He is extremely pale, his black hair pushed
from his forehead, and his eyes burning, but his manner is calm._)

_Philo_

Well, am I a free man?

_Seymour_

You are free, Philo.

_Philo_ (_perfunctorily_)

Thank you, doctor.

_Seymour_

But you must have rest from this work. These subjects are too
overwhelming for a sane brain to carry without harm. This attic is
gloomy and the atmosphere unhealthy. You must have a complete change.

_Philo_

I see. That is your answer to my discovery. (_Turns suddenly to_
WARNER.) And what do you think of it, father?

_Warner_

I don't seem to get hold of it, somehow, Philo. (_Crosses to machine and
stares at it._) What's the good, anyhow? They're too far away.
'Twouldn't help business.

(PHILO _gives a queer laugh._ WARNER _opens door._)

_Warner_

I'll see you down-stairs, doctor. (_Exit._)

_Philo_ (_turning to_ MRS. W.)

And you, mother?

_Mrs. W._ (_bustling up and gathering tray and glasses_)

I've got to set my bread. (