Part 5 (1/2)

_Seymour_ (_shaken_)

But I saw nothing. At least a slight movement in anything so sensitive might be due to many causes....

_Philo_

Yes! It is always the old story. Truths must be hammered into humanity!

Branded in with flame, or driven in with sword and bullet!

_Bellows_ (_starting up alarmed_)

Hadn't we better be going, doctor?

_Philo_

Oh, no! Wait till you've talked me over. Decide whether I'm mad or not!

If I'm a menace to the community! If I must be locked up! My father and mother are waiting to know. Don't go! Finish your work! (_Rushes into room, left._)

_Bellows_ (_triumphantly to_ SEYMOUR)

Well?

(SEYMOUR _hesitates, looks at the father and mother, then at_ BELLOWS, _and takes out his match-case._)

_Bellows_ (_making a conquest of the obvious_)

Warner, a little of that fine cider of yours would just finish off our chat.

_Warner_

Nothing better! (_Starting out, whispers to_ MRS. W.) Where's grandma's silver pitcher?

_Mrs. W._

I'll get _that_.

(_They go down-stairs._)

_Bellows_ (_laughing_)

She never lets him go to the cellar by himself.

_Seymour_

Not a drinker, is he?

_Bellows_

Oh, no! The pattern of a deacon. But she keeps her hand on.