hich society is not wise
enough to help them use wisely--mightn't such people be like
fine-blooded animals who sniff land and water where no one else suspects
any? Given a certain kink in a human brain, and there might result
capacity we ought to consider, even if we can't, in our admittably
systematized civilization, utilize it."

The Swiss doctor nodded, magnetic eyes and mouth smiling.

"Meanwhile"--in his slow, careful speech--"meanwhile we do what we can
to preserve the type which from long experience we know _wears_ best."

Milton nodded. He moved to go, one hand on Gargoyle's unresponsive
shoulder, when the office door swung open.

"Now this is real trouble," laughed a woman's fresh, deep-chested voice.
"Doctor Mach, it means using one of your tall measuring-glasses or
permitting these lovely things to wilt; some one has inundated us with
flowers. I've already filled one bath-tub; I've even used the buckets in
the operating-room."

The head nurse stood there, white-frocked, smiling, her stout arms full
of rosy gladioli and the lavender and white of Japanese iris. The two
doctors started to help her with the fragrant burden, but not before
Gargoyle sprang out of his chair. With a start, as if shocked into
galvanic motion, the boy sat upright. With a throttled cry he leaped at
the surprised woman. He bore down upon her flowers as if they had been a
life-preserver, snatching at them as if to prevent himself from being
sucked under by some strange mental undertow. The softly-colored bloom
might have had some vital magnetizing force for the child's blood, to
which his whole feeble nature responded. Tearing the colored mass from
the surprised nurse's arms, Gargoyle sank to the floor. He sat there
caressing the flowers, smiling, making uncouth efforts to speak. The
arms that raised him were gentle enough. They made no attempt to take
from him his treasures. They sat him on the table, watching the little
thin hands move ardently, yet with a curious deftness and delicacy, amid
the sheaf of color. As the visionary eyes peered first into one
golden-hearted lily, then into another, Milton felt stir, in spite of
himself, Strang's old conviction of the "undressed mind." He said
nothing, but stole a glance at the face of his superior. Doctor Mach was
absorbed. He stood the boy on the table before him. The nurse stripped
Gargoyle, then swiftly authoritative fingers traveled up and down the
small, thin frame.