class="stage">(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. (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

No. It's livelier for me up here. More to think about. But don't worry about me, doctor. I know this is the end. If I can't convince you, then all the world must think it hallucination.

Seymour

I'm not unconvinced. I simply don't know. And I'm deeply interested. But you can't stand it, Philo. Get out of this. Be young. This is for older heads. You'll have plenty of time. Get out—do anything. Fall in love—fall in love—that will give you mysteries enough for a while. Yes, I mean it—and don't forget, my dear boy, that you've interested me.

(Shakes hands with Philo and goes down. Philo listens until he has reached the foot of the stairs.)

Philo

The heavens open—the suns speak—and he is—interested! (Closes door.) Alone!... Fall in love! Light the candle and put out the stars!... (Returns to his instrument.) ... It is still.

(Steps are heard on the stairs, then a knock at the door. He crosses softly to door and shoots the bolt.)

Voice (without)

It's Reba, Philo! Won't you let me in?

(He is silent, and steps retreat.)

Philo (crossing to centre)

Reba! That folly's done with, thank God!... (Begins walking.) Seymour.... I didn't know how much I was hoping from him.... It is hard, hard to go on alone. But I must! I can't turn back from that call. When a child cries we turn, and listen, and help. And this—this is the voice of a world!

(A knock is heard at door.)

Voice of Warner

Philo!

Philo

Buzz, buzz, old bee!

Voice

Come down, son!

Philo

Please leave me alone, father. I can't bear anything more to-night.

(A pause, and Warner goes down.)

Philo (coming to table)

I will work—work—work! (Busies his hands.) Not a voice to help me—not a smile of hope—not a touch of sympathy. (Sits still and despairing.) ... Perhaps the time is not ripe for larger knowledge. Nature and the Divinity that guides her must protect their new evolving creatures. A too sudden revelation and they might perish from sheer wonder.... Yes, truth must come softened, as a dream, to the man child's brain. Its naked light would sere and blind him forever.... But to me it has been given to see—to hear—and keep sane in the light. Oh, from what planet is the call? From what one of the hundred million spheres? How many centuries has it been sent outward to the deaf, the dumb, and the blind? And what is the word? Is it Hail? Help? Hope?... Or is it an answer? An answer to some signal of mine? How shall I know?... How shall I know?

(There is a noise outside the window. Philo does not look up. Reba appears and leaps lightly through the windows. Advances centre. Her dress is of clinging black, relieved by a floating scarf of cloudy white. She has a mass of blonde hair, and all the charms properly belonging to her age, which is eighteen.)

Reba

Philo!

Philo (turning)

Reba!

Reba

Don't be angry.

Philo

How did you get here?

Reba

The window. Don't you remember—you showed me how to climb up once—with a ladder—the tree—and the shed roof? Oh, the things you've forgotten, Philo!

(He goes to door and unbolts it.)

Philo

You must go down, Reba. (She does not move.) What will mother say?

Reba (laughing)

She held the ladder for me.

Philo

Mother?

Reba

You've frightened her so. You mustn't bolt the door again. She's afraid you'll do something dreadful.

Philo

You were not afraid to come.

Reba

I like to take risks. Life's dull in this village.

Philo

How you've changed, Reba!

Reba

It's taken you long enough to find it out. I've been back a month.

Philo

You'd better go down. I'm very busy, and I've had a long interruption this evening.

Reba

I'm going to interrupt some more. Dr. Seymour says it's good for you.

Philo (angrily)

Dr. Seymour knows you've come?

Reba

Yes. He said you might like the surprise. Don't you like it, Philo?

(Comes near him. Philo turns away and busies himself about the table and shelves as if he meant to ignore her utterly. Reba watches him, then goes to window and takes a large apple from the ledge. Comes back.)

Reba

I brought you an apple—such a love of an apple. There's a whole summer of sunsets in it. I climbed the tree myself.

Philo (not looking)

Thank you; I don't eat.

Reba

Don't eat! Well, there it is! (Throws it on the table. He jumps to protect his instrument.) You can lick it when you're hungry!

(He sits down and begins to work. She walks to other side of table and picks up a book.)

Reba

Oh! Our old "Swiss Family Robinson"! The very one we read together! With our names in it! You've kept it all the time! (Hugging it.) Dear old book! (Turns the leaves.) Why—the leaves are half gone!

Philo

They're handy for cleaning my wires.

(She throws the book down, and stands uncertain.)

Philo

Going, Reba? Good night!

Reba

No, I'm not going. This is my last chance. You'll bar the window to-morrow.

Philo (determinedly)

Yes, I will.

(He bends closely over his work. She lies across the table opposite, watching his movements intently. He fumbles for a tool.)

Reba

The little one? Here it is!

(Hands him a small wire tool. He stares at her face so near his own, then takes the instrument and works