r her there is somebody there.
For us there would not be somebody there. Don't you see?

MORRIS. [_Advancing excitedly._] Somebody there! What do you mean?

DUKE. [_Airily._] Well, you can't quite call it a man.

MORRIS. [_Violently._] A man!

DUKE. Well, as old Buffle used to say, what is a man?

MORRIS. [_With a strong rise of the American accent._] With your
permission, Duke, I eliminate old Buffle. Do you mean that anybody has
had the tarnation coolness to suggest that some man....

DUKE. Oh, not a _man_, you know. A magician, something mythical, you
know.

SMITH. Not a _man_, but a medicine man.

DOCTOR. [_Grimly._] I am a medicine man.

MORRIS. And you don't look mythical, Doc.

[_He bites his finger and begins to pace restlessly up and down the
room._

DUKE. Well, you know, the artistic temperament....

MORRIS. [_Turning suddenly._] See here, Duke! In most commercial ways
we're a pretty forward country. In these moral ways we're content to be
a pretty backward country. And if you ask me whether I like my sister
walking about the woods on a night like this! Well, I don't.

DUKE. I am afraid you Americans aren't so advanced as I'd hoped. Why! as
old Buffle used to say....

[_As he speaks a distant voice is heard singing in the garden; it
comes nearer and nearer, and_ SMITH _turns suddenly to the_ DOCTOR.

SMITH. Whose voice is that?

DOCTOR. It is no business of mine to decide!

MORRIS. [_Walking to the window._] You need not trouble. I know who it
is.

_Enter_ PATRICIA CARLEON

[_Still agitated._] Patricia, where have you been?

PATRICIA. [_Rather wearily._] Oh! in Fairyland.

DOCTOR. [_Genially._] And whereabouts is that?

PATRICIA. It's rather different from other places. It's either nowhere
or it's wherever you are.

MORRIS. [_Sharply._] Has it any inhabitants?

PATRICIA. Generally only two. Oneself and one's shadow. But whether he
is my shadow or I am his shadow is never found out.

MORRIS. He? Who?

PATRICIA. [_Seeming to understand his annoyance for the first time, and
smiling._] Oh, you needn't get conventional about it, Morris. He is not
a mortal.

MORRIS. What's his name?

PATRICIA. We have no names there. You never really know anybody if you
know his name.

MORRIS. What does he look like?

PATRICIA. I have only met him in the twilight. He seems robed in a long
cloak, with a peaked cap or hood like the elves in my nursery stories.
Sometimes