The Flutter of the Goldleaf | Page 2

take after her, but he's worse'n she ever was.
Mrs. W.
She didn't have any books--or college education--to turn her head.
Warner
Nothing to read but the Weekly Mirror. It was a good paper, though, all
about crops and stock, and what the country people were doing, and a
love story on the inside page. Father subscribed on her account. She
told him her mind had to have something to work on. But she didn't
take to the paper, and he had to read it himself to get his money's
worth.
Mrs. W.
A good thing she didn't have a library to get at like Philo. All those
books he brought home didn't do him any good. He began to get queer
about the time he was reading that set of Sir Humphry Davy's Complete
Works, with so much about electrics and the stars, and that sort of stuff.

If we could only get him to quit this studyin' and stay out-o'-doors....
Warner
S'pose we clear out this hole--burn the books, and get rid of all these
confounded wires and jars and fixings. I don't believe he saves a penny
of the wages I give him for helpin' to ruin me. All he makes goes for
this truck. We'll clear it out.
Mrs. W.
I've thought of that, but we oughtn't to go too far. They're his anyhow,
and I'm afraid----
Warner
Well, I'm not afraid! And I'll begin with this devil! (Pauses over
machine. Starts suddenly.) What's that? He's coming!
Mrs. W. (listening)
It's only Alice going to her room.
Warner
Perhaps we'd better see what the specialist says first.
Mrs. W.
I know Dr. Bellows wants us to send Philo away. But I'm against that,
first and last.
Warner
You wouldn't be if you'd listen to Bellows awhile. You know what he
told me when I met him this morning? "Why, Warner," he says, "I
never go to see the boy without taking a pair of handcuffs in my pocket.
It's the quiet ones that go the wildest when they do break out."

Mrs. W.
Oh, Hiram, it's not going to be so bad as that. Don't let him set you
against your own flesh and blood. Just let me manage awhile. He needs
to get stirred up about something--get his mind off this. I wish I hadn't
stopped those letters he was getting from Reba Sloan when she went
off to school two years ago.
Warner
But you said you'd rather see him dead than married to Sloan's girl.
Mrs. W.
I meant it, too! But seeing your child dead is not so bad as seeing him
crazy--and if Reba can save him----
Warner
How in thunder----
Mrs. W.
She's a taking girl, Hiram--since she got back. If Philo gets his mind
fixed on her, she'll soon have him forgettin' this. Why,--you remember
for three months before we were married you couldn't think o' nothing
but me.
Warner
Good Lord! Is that so, Mary Ann?
Mrs. W.
I had to hurry up the weddin' to save your business. You were letting
Jabe McKenny take all your trade right under your nose.
Warner

Sakes 'a' mighty! If I could come out of a spell like that, there's some
hope for our poor chap.
Mrs. W.
That's what I'm telling you!
Warner
But Reba's father--you going to have old fiddler Sloan in the family?
Mrs. W.
He's come into some money now, and any gentleman can take an
interest in music.
Warner
And the mother was that foreign woman.
Mrs. W.
But she's dead. It's just as well Philo won't have a mother-in-law.
Warner
Reba'll have one, all right. If Philo stays queer it'll be hard on the girl,
won't it?
Mrs. W.
He'll not stay queer. If he gets that girl in his head there won't be room
for anything else--for a while anyway. He'll be worse'n you ever was.
You let me manage it, Hiram.
(PHILO is heard coming up the stairs. They listen in silence until he
enters. He is talking, not quite audibly, to himself, and doesn't see them.
Goes to table and stands by machine.)

Philo
Here--at last--I have caught the word ... the word of the stars.
Mrs. W.
Philo!
Philo (looking up)
Mother!... Father!... (In alarm.) You haven't touched anything here?
Mrs. W.
No, my son. I've just put the place to rights a bit. Dr. Seymour is
coming, you know.
Philo
Yes. (Walks the floor, meditating.)
Warner
You must come out of this dream, Philo.
Philo
It is not a dream! I am the only being in the world who is awake!
Mrs. W.
My son!
Philo
Man sleeps--like the rocks, trees, hills--while all around him, out of the
unseen, beating on blind eyes, deaf ears, numbed brain, sweep the
winds of eternity, the ether