DR. MACPHERSON.  Under these conditions, it is quite impossible to hypnotize a room full of people.  Perhaps you think the camera was hypnotized?  In similar circumstances, says Lombroso, an unnatural current of cold air went through the room and lowered the thermometer several degrees.  Can you hypnotize a thermometer?

CATHERINE. [Impressed.] That’s wonderful, Doctor!

PETER.  Yes, it’s a very pretty fairy story; but it would sound better set to shivery music. [Sings.] Tol!  Dol!  Dol!  Dol! [Rising to get his pipe and tobacco.] No, sir!  I refuse to agree to your compact.  You cannot pick the lock of heaven’s gate.  We don’t come back.  God did enough for us when he gave us life and strength to work and the work to do.  He owes us no explanations.  I believe in the old-fashioned paradise with a locked gate. [He fills his pipe and lights it.] No bogies for me.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Rising.] Peter, I console myself with the thought that men have scoffed at the laws of gravitation, at vaccination, magnetism, daguerreotypes, steamboats, cars, telephones, wireless telegraphy and lighting by gas. [Showing feeling.] I’m very much disappointed that you refuse my request.

PETER. [Laying down his pipe on the table.] Since you take it so seriously—­here—­[Offers his hand.] I’ll agree.  I know you’re an old fool—­and I’m another.  Now then—­[Shakes hands.] it’s settled.  Whichever one shall go first—­[He bursts into laughter—­then controlling himself.] If I do come back, I’ll apologize, Andrew.

DR. MACPHERSON.  Do you mean it?

PETER.  I’ll apologize.  Wait [Taking the keys from the sideboard.], let us seal the compact in a glass of my famous plum brandy.

DR. MACPHERSON.  Good!

PETER. [As he passes off.] We’ll drink to spooks.

CATHERINE.  You really do believe, Doctor, that the dead can come back, don’t you?

DR. MACPHERSON.  Of course I do, and why not?

CATHERINE.  Do you believe that you could come back here into this room and
I could see you?

DR. MACPHERSON.  You might not see me; but I could come back to this room.

CATHERINE.  Could you talk to me?

DR. MACPHERSON.  Yes.

CATHERINE.  And could I hear you?

DR. MACPHERSON.  I believe so.  That’s what we’re trying to make possible. [CATHERINE, still wondering, passes off with the tray.  From the cellar, PETER can be heard singing lustily.

PETER.  “If you want a bite that’s good to eat,
  (Tra, la, ritte, ra, la, la, la!)
  Try out a goose that’s fat and sweet,
  (Tra, la, ritte, ra, la, la, la!”)

During the song, MRS. BATHOLOMMEY has given a quick tap on the door and entered.  She is about forty years of age.  Her faded brown hair is streaked with grey.  She wears a plain black alpaca costume.