want us to give
all sorts of proofs; and here we are just back for a little while--very
poorly put together on the chance that you'll see us at all.

DR. MACPHERSON. Poor old Peter--bless his heart! [_His elbow on the table
as though he had been thinking over the matter._ CATHERINE _sits quietly
listening._] If he kept that compact with me, and came back,--do you know
what I'd ask him first? If our work goes on.

PETER. Well, now, that's a regular sticker. It's bothered me considerably
since I crossed over.

CATHERINE. What do you mean, Doctor?

DR. MACPHERSON. The question _every man wants the answer to_: what's to
become of me--_me_--_my work_? Am I going to be a bone setter in the next
life and he a tulip man?... I wonder.

PETER. Andrew, I've asked everybody--Tom, Dick and Harry. One spirit told
me that sometimes our work _does_ go on; but he was an awful liar--you
knew we don't drop our earth habits at once. He said that a genius is
simply a fellow who's been there before in some other world and knows his
business. Now then: [_Confidentially preparing to open an argument--
sitting in his old seat at the table, as in the first act._] it stands to
reason, Andrew, doesn't it? What chance has the beginner compared with a
fellow who knew his business before he was born?

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Unconsciously grasping the thought._] I believe it is
possible to have more than one chance at our work.

PETER. There ... you caught that.... Why can't you take my message to
Catherine?

DR. MACPHERSON. [_Rising to get his shawl--gruffly._] Thought over what I
told you concerning this marriage? Not too late to back out.

PETER. He's beginning to take the message.

CATHERINE. Everything's arranged: I shall be married as Uncle Peter
wished. I sha'n't change my mind.

DR. MACPHERSON. H'm! [_Picks up his shawl._

PETER. [_Trying to detain the_ DOCTOR--_tugging at his shawl without
seeming to pull it._] Don't give up! Don't give up! A girl can always
change her mind--while there's life. Don't give up! [_The_ DOCTOR _turns,
facing_ PETER, _looking directly at him as he puts his hand in his coat
pocket._] You heard that, eh?... Didn't you? Yes? Did it cross over?...
What?... It did?... You're looking me in the face, Andrew; can you see me?
[_The_ DOCTOR _takes a pencil out of his pocket, writes a prescription,
throws his shawl over his shoulder--turning his back towards_ PETER _and
facing_ CATHERINE.] Tc! Tc! Tc!

DR. MACPHER