DR. MACPHERSON. Don't be too sure of that.
PETER. No, Andrew, no, positively, no. I refuse. Don't count upon me for any assistance in your spook tests.
DR. MACPHERSON. And how many times do you think you've been a spook yourself? You can't tell me that man is perfect; that he doesn't live more than one life; that the soul doesn't go on and on. Pshaw! The persistent personal energy must continue, or what is God? [CATHERINE has re-entered with another cup, saucer and plate which she sets on the table, and pours out the coffee.
CATHERINE. [Interested.] Were you speaking of—of ghosts, Doctor?
PETER. Yes, he has begun again. [To CATHERINE.] You're just in time to hear it. [To DR. MACPHERSON.] Andrew, I'll stay behind, contented in this life; knowing what I have here on earth, and you shall die and return with your—ha!—persistent personal whatever-it-is, and keep the spook compact. Every time a knock sounds, or a chair squeaks, or the door bangs, I shall say, "Sh! There's the Doctor!"
CATHERINE. [Noticing a book which the DOCTOR has taken from his pocket, and reading the title.] "Are the Dead Alive?"
DR. MACPHERSON. I'm in earnest, Peter. I'll promise and I want you to promise, too. Understand that I am not a so-called spiritist. I am merely a seeker after truth. [Puts more sugar in his coffee.
PETER. That's what they all are—seekers after truth. Rubbish! Do you really believe such stuff?
DR. MACPHERSON. I know that the dead are alive. They're here—here—near us—close at hand. [PETER, in derision, lifts the table-cloth and peeps under the table—then, taking the lid off the sugar-bowl, peers into it.] Some of the great scientists of the day are of the same opinion.
PETER. Bah! Dreamers! They accomplish nothing in the world. They waste their lives dreaming of the world to come.