Part 7 (1/2)

_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 gla.s.ses_)

I've got to set my bread. (_Crosses to machine and stares at it, holding tray._) What'll we come to if folks in the stars begin pesterin'? We've got enough to 'tend to right here. (_Goes out muttering._) Got to set my bread.

(SEYMOUR _and_ PHILO _look at each other and smile._)

_Seymour_

Won't you come down, Philo?

_Philo_