Scene: 
   A fairly large room in Dr. JONATHAN’s house in Foxon Falls, which
   has been converted into a laboratory.  The house antedates the
   pindar mansion, having been built in the first decade of the
   nineteenth century, and though not large, has a certain distinction
   and charm.  The room has a panelled wainscoting and a carved wooden
   mantel, middle left, painted white, like the doors.  Into the
   fireplace is set a Franklin stove.  The windows at the rear have
   small panes; the lower sashes are raised; the tops of the hollyhocks
   and foxgloves in the garden bed may be seen above the window sills,
   and the apple trees beyond.  Under the windows is a long table, on
   which are chemical apparatus.  A white enamelled sink is in the rear
   right corner.  The walls are whitewashed, the wooden floor bare.  A
   door, left, in the rear, leads into Dr. Jonathan’s office; another,
   middle right, into a little front hall.

Time:  A July morning, 1918.

Minnie Farrell, in the white costume worn by nurses and laboratory workers, is at the bench, pouring liquid into a test tube and holding its up to the light, when Dr. Jonathan enters from the right.

Dr. Jonathan.  Has anyone been in, Minnie?

Minnie (turning, with the test tube in her hand).  Now, what a question to ask, Dr. Jonathan!  Was there ever a morning or afternoon that somebody didn’t stray in here with their troubles? (Fiercely.) They don’t think a scientist has a real job,—­they don’t understand, if you put this across—­(she holds up the test tube)—­you’ll save the lives of thousands of soldiers, and a few ordinary folks, too, I guess.  But you won’t let me tell anyone.

Dr. Jonathan.  It will be time enough to tell them when we do put it across.

Minnie.  But we’re going to,—­that is, you’re going to.

Dr. Jonathan.  You’re too modest, Minnie.

Minnie.  Me modest!  But what makes me sore is that they don’t give you a chance to put this thing across.  Dr. Senn’s a back number, and if they’re sick they come here and expect you to cure ’em for nothing.

Dr. Jonathan.  But they can’t complain if I don’t cure them.

Minnie.  And half the time they ain’t sick at all,—­they only imagine it.

Dr. Jonathan.  Well, that’s interesting too,—­part of a doctor’s business.  It’s pretty hard to tell in these days where the body ends and the soul begins.

Minnie.  It looks like you’re cutting out the minister, too.  You’d ought to be getting his salary.

Dr. Jonathan.  Then I’d have to do his job.

Minnie.  I get you—­you’d be paid to give ’em all the same brand of dope. 
You wouldn’t be free.