siness such encounters
generate, but Fred's mother returned with a tea tray before
self-introductions became necessary. She said, "Mr. Gaard, this is my
son, Fred."

The man smiled easily as Mrs. Grant continued, speaking now to Fred.
"This is Curt Gaard, Fred. I called on him today and what do you think I
discovered. He was a friend--a very old friend--of your father." Mrs.
Grant stopped, a certain inward uncertainty showing through.

Fred stood mute, giving voice to none of the questions which sprang up
in his mind. Curt Gaard, completely at ease, took up the lead. Even as a
feeling of familiarity sprang into Fred's mind, Gaard said, "I _knew_
your father--met him several times--but we weren't as close as your
mother's words might imply."

Then Fred knew. He spoke suddenly. "You're a psychiatrist." The pieces
fell into place. Fred's father had mentioned this man several times, and
the boy knew he was not there by chance--that his mother had contacted
the psychiatrist--this particular one because she too had remembered the
acquaintanceship. For a moment, Fred was annoyed with his mother. Why on
earth had she brought a psychiatrist into this? Then he softened as he
realized she felt it to be to her son's best interests.

"Yes, I'm a psychiatrist," Gaard said. Then, as though he could read
Fred's mind: "Your mother _did_ send for me, but so far as I'm
concerned, it's more than just a professional visit. I knew your father
and liked him. I'd like to be your friend."

"You plan to psychoanalyze me?"

"Don't be so grim about it," Curt Gaard smiled. "Just let's make this a
social visit. There will be plenty of time for other things later.
Perhaps you can drop in at my office."

"Perhaps," Fred said, almost absently. A short time later he excused
himself and went to his room.

* * * * *

"Mrs. Grant?" Mr. Browne said, smiling at the woman behind the screen
door. "I'm Mr. Browne the publisher."

"Browne?" she said. "Oh yes. My hus--husband has mentioned you."

"Favorably, I hope?" Browne was wondering if Dr. Grant had told her of
his decision not to let the book be published.

"Oh yes, very favorably." She frowned. "Which reminds me. He received a
check from you for the advance royalties. I'm sure he didn't cash it
because there was no deposit at the bank that large. I can't find the
check anywhere. He must have had it with him when--"

She had opened the screen door. Browne went