The Flutter of the Goldleaf; and Other Plays - BestLightNovel.com
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We'll see. As I say, the boy has been losing sleep, and giving his mind no rest.
_Mrs. W._ (_holding tray while_ WARNER _pours cider_)
Just what I say, doctor. He's studied himself sick.
_Seymour_
You must get him out of here, Mrs. Warner. (_Sipping cider._) Excellent, indeed!
_Mrs. W._
I'm doing my best.
_Warner_ (_to_ BELLOWS, _who has drained his gla.s.s_)
You're at home, doctor. Just help yourself.
(_He does._)
_Seymour_
What is his age?
_Mrs. W._
Twenty. He went early to college.
_Seymour_ (_musingly_)
The usual age. Twenty. (_Sighs._) The age of visions and enchantments.
"The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
_Bellows_
What are you saying, doctor?
_Seymour_
Just thinking. It's a healthy family, isn't it?
_Mrs. W._
I should say! Why, Will and Johnny and Alice----
_Bellows_
Best sort. The thoroughbreds of the town. Temperate, thriving, regular at church. Warner here was once county supervisor. (_Clapping him on shoulder._) Never had a better one.
_Seymour_ (_to_ WARNER)
And your parents?
_Warner_
Father was a sound, practical man. Stood flat-footed, I may say.
_Seymour_
And your mother?
_Mrs. W._
Law me, Hiram Warner thinks there was never anybody in the world like his mother. And there never _was_!
_Seymour_
That's good to build on. It is clear that your boy is ill, and the burden of his knowledge, whether truth or delusion, is far too great for him to bear. If you could interest him for even a brief time in ordinary life--(_smiling_) miracles that are too common to be disturbing--throw him with young people----
_Bellows_
You don't mean you won't sign the commitment papers!
_Seymour_
Just that. I shall not sign them.
_Mrs. W._ (_gratefully_)
Oh, doctor!
_Bellows_
After what you saw here with your own eyes? He's completely gone off!
_Seymour_
The boy may be right. Under this tiny consciousness of ours lie vast fields of subconscious intelligence as yet unexplored. Beyond our earth are still greater mysteries, unimaginable, unthinkable.
_Bellows_ (_in disgust_)
And I counted on your common sense!
_Seymour_
Common sense is itself too frail and uncertain a thing to be a criterion of sanity. The common sense of yesterday is to-day's folly, and our present common sense will be the madness of to-morrow.
_Bellows_
Well, I'll be--I'll wait for you down-stairs, doctor. (_Exit._)
