She walked briskly down the hall. Sally Hancock met her near Timmy Lester’s small room. She smiled at Jean as if it were an effort to move the muscles in her face.
“Why in the world doesn’t Dr. Barsch send you to bed, too?” Jean asked.
“He did. A couple of hours ago. I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d pass out if my head hit a pillow, but I was too worried,” Sally said. She nodded towards Timmy’s room. “Listen,” she said. “Someone else couldn’t sleep, either.”
Jean heard low voices coming from Timmy’s room. “Is Ted in there with Timmy?” she asked.
Sally shook her head. “Ted’s got too much sense. He’s dead to the world ... down in Dr. Barsch’s office on the sofa. No, that’s bright boy.”
“Dr. Benson?” Jean asked.
Sally nodded. “No one else can get near the boy. Or haven’t you heard?”
“I’ve been tied up in the contagious ward all week,” Jean admitted.
“Well, any time Timmy wants something, Dr. Benson does it for him. It’s queer. At least I don’t get it. And every free minute Benson has, he spends with the boy. Well, anyhow, it makes them both more agreeable. That little waif! He’s the worst juvenile delinquent I’ve ever seen!” Sally exclaimed.
Jean smiled. “I think I understand,” she said softly. “And I’m sure Timmy isn’t a delinquent.”