(Asher halts and gazes at him mutely, and then looks at Augusta.)

Dr. Frye.  You’d better sit down here a minute and rest, Captain Pindar.

(Asher starts to pull up an armchair, but Augusta looks at him and shakes her head, and pulls it up herself.  George sinks into the chair, leans back his head and closes his eyes.  Augusta hovers over him, smoothing his hair.)

Augusta.  Is there nothing we can do, Dr. Frye?  A little brandy—?

Dr. Frye (who is evidently trying to hide his own concern by a show of professional self-confidence), I think I’d wait a few moments.

George (murmuring).  I—­I’ll be all right, mother

   (Dr. Frye stands gazing down at him a few seconds and then comes
   forward into the room to join Asher.)

Asher.  For God’s sake tell me what it is, doctor!  Why did you leave New York with him when he was in this condition?  Was it because?

Dr. Frye (speaking more rapidly than is his wont).  He was surprisingly well, considering everything, when we left New York, and the army medical men advised taking him home.  I thought an automobile better than a slow train.  I tried to telephone you, but the storm—­

Asher.  I know.

Dr. Frye.  I sent you a wire.

Asher.  I didn’t get it.

Dr. Frye.  It was impossible to get a good nurse on account of the influenza epidemic.  In fact, I didn’t think he needed one—­but I thought you’d feel more comfortable if I came.  He seemed extraordinary well, even cheerful until we got right into Foxon Falls.  We were passing your shops, and a big crowd of men were there, making a noise, shouting at a speaker.  Is there a strike on here?

Asher.  Yes.  You say he got like this when he saw the crowd?

Dr. Frye (indicating George).  As you see.  He fell back on the cushions as though he’d been hit—­it all happened in a second.  I have the history of the case from the army people—­he had an attack something like this abroad.

Asher.  Did you notice how he avoided me?

Dr. Frye (with reluctance).  That may not be anything.  It’s his heart, at present,—­and yet I’m convinced that this is a case for a psychologist as well as for a medical man.  I confess I’m puzzled, and as soon as we can get a connection with New York I want to summon Barnwell.

Asher.  I’ll see if I can get a wire through.

Dr. Frye.  Telephone Plaza 4632.

   (Asher hurries out, lower right.  Dr. Frye returns to George to take
   his pulse when Dr. Jonathan enters, upper right.  He crosses the
   room directly to George and stands looking down at him.)