“It’s all right,” said Welles, lighting a cigarette and pretending to watch the smoke rise. Anything rather than appear to be watching the badly shaken small boy shivering in the chair opposite him. “Sorry. You didn’t tell me about the things you don’t like, the things you’re afraid of.”
The words hung in the silence.
“Yes,” said Timothy slowly. “I’m afraid of shots. I hate needles. It’s just one of those things.” He tried to smile.
“We’ll do without them, then. You’ve passed all the tests, Tim, and I’d like to walk home with you and tell your grandmother about it. Is that all right with you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll stop for something to eat,” Welles went on, opening the door for his patient. “Ice cream, or a hot dog.”
They went out together.
Timothy Paul’s grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Davis, lived in a large old-fashioned house that spelled money and position. The grounds were large, fenced, and bordered with shrubbery. Inside the house there was little that was new, everything was well-kept. Timothy led the psychiatrist to Mr. Davis’s library, and then went in search of his grandmother.
When Welles saw Mrs. Davis, he thought he had some of the explanation. Some grandmothers are easy-going, jolly, comparatively young. This grandmother was, as it soon became apparent, quite different.
“Yes, Timothy is a pretty good boy,” she said, smiling on her grandson. “We have always been strict with him, Dr. Welles, but I believe it pays. Even when he was a mere baby, we tried to teach him right ways. For example, when he was barely three I read him some little stories. And a few days later he was trying to tell us, if you will believe it, that he could read! Perhaps he was too young to know the nature of a lie, but I felt it my duty to make him understand. When he insisted, I spanked him. The child had a remarkable memory, and perhaps he thought that was all there was to reading. Well! I don’t mean to brag of my brutality,” said Mrs. Davis, with a charming smile. “I assure you, Dr. Welles, it was a painful experience for me. We’ve had very little occasion for punishments. Timothy is a good boy.”