She touches her guitar. “Philip,” I say, “don’t you think we can catch the dawn soon up here?” He is silent, not knowing. “John, don’t be foolish,” comes my mother’s voice. “How do you expect to see the dawn at midnight?” “But the mountain is so high.” “What difference does that make? Eh, Doctor Stein, what do you think of the foolish ideas of my boy?” “If you went high enough,” smiles Doctor Stein, “above the earth, you could catch dawn at sunset.” My mother tosses her head, tossing the discomfort of the thought away. Mildred’s laughter peals: “Oh, I shan’t be satisfied till I’ve seen that.” “We are high up,” ponders Philip. “I have won!” shouts Mr. Fayn. “Come, look. It’s all clear. Look!” “But we believe you, Fayn.” My father languidly blows a ring toward the rafters. “And even if we aren’t so high,” says Mildred, “perhaps we are high enough to catch the dawn at midnight.” “We are very high,” says Philip. “Well,” cries Mildred, “why does no one look? It’s midnight now. Instead of arguing, instead of theorizing, why does not someone look?” She tosses her head up and down. “Oh, you’re all too comfortable, here, to budge,” she taunts. “And you, what about you?” says my mother savagely, while she lights a cigarette. Mildred turns toward me. I arise from my chair. “I will look for you, Mildred.” All of them are seated: all of them are laughing at my words, for even as I hear them, my voice is solemn. What nonsense is this? I accept as real and right this comfortable group of laughing persons, dear to me, who mock from the bright assurance of their world matriced in black, my gesture as I rise to seek the dawn at midnight. “Look at him,” cries mother. “He’s really going to look. Doctor Stein, what _will_ we do with my boy?” My father sneers in his kindliest way, and Mildred’s laughter like a precious stone says nothing to me. But I am up from my chair.... And I am near the window. “Will you know,” says Philip, “how to look for it?” I do not answer. Mr. Fayn starts another game. “I’m foolish,” he announces seriously. “You never win twice in one sitting.” “There’s a good law,” says Doctor Stein, “to break.” Mr. Fayn shakes his head. Mildred’s interest pierces me. Philip sits heavy at her side, a little closer since I left my chair. Before me is the night.--Well, why not look? Behind me, the real, the light: my dear ones. As I move across the floor, my eyes, ere they have looked, are heavy and are strained. “There is nothing to see.” The words have come ere my eyes truly saw if there was nothing to see. It is as if my will spoke the words ... lying words?... My mother nods, content. Mildred bends toward Philip. Father smokes and Mr. Fayn taps his foot on the floor. “Will you know,” the low warm voice of Philip, “how to look for the dawn at midnight?” “You have told us,” Mildred thrums her guitar. “It will rise perpendicular like a flaming arrow.” “From where?” “From the deep.” “From the deep below the mountain.”