“Yes, very different,” laughed Welles. “I’ve never tried that. Would you like to?”
“Oh, no, sir,” cried Tim earnestly.
“You’re a little jumpy today,” said Welles. “We’ve time for some more talk, if you are not too tired.”
“No, I’m not very tired,” said the boy warily.
Welles went to a drawer and chose a hypodermic needle. It wasn’t usual, but perhaps—“I’ll just give you a little shot to relax your nerves, shall I? Then we’d get on better.”
When he turned around, the stark terror on the child’s face stopped Welles in his tracks.
“Oh, no! Don’t! Please, please, please, don’t!”
Welles replaced the needle and shut the drawer before he said a word.
“I won’t,” he said, quietly. “I didn’t know you didn’t like shots. I won’t give you any, Tim.”
The boy, fighting for self-control, gulped and said nothing.