"He's tame!" she said delightedly. "Maybe—"
Calhoun extended his hand. She took it. Murgatroyd, swaggering, extended his own black paw. Instead of conflict and hatred, here, Murgatroyd seemed to sense an amiable sociability such as he was used to. He felt more at home. He began zestfully to act like the human being he liked to pretend he was.
"He's delightful!" said the girl. "May I show him to Jak?"
Young Walker said:
"Elsa's been helping with the smaller kids. She says there's something the matter that she doesn't understand. She has one of the kids here. Bring him, Elsa."
She vanished. A moment later she brought in a small boy. He was probably six or seven. She carried him. He was thin. His eyes were bright, but he was completely passive in her arms. She put him down in a chair and he looked about alertly enough, but he simply did not move. He saw Murgatroyd, and beamed. Murgatroyd went over to the human who was near his own size. Swaggering, he offered his paw once more. The boy giggled, but his hand lay in his lap.
"He doesn't do anything!" said Elsa distressedly. "His muscles work, but he doesn't work them! He just sits and waits for things to be done for him! He acts as if he'd lost the idea of moving, or doing anything at all! And—it's beginning to show up among the other children! They just sit! They're bright enough ... they see and understand—but they just sit!"
Calhoun examined the boy. His expression grew carefully impassive. But he winced as he touched the pipestem arms and legs. What muscles were there were almost like dough.
When he straightened up, despite himself his mouth was awry. Young Walker's wife said anxiously:
"Do you know what's the matter with him?"