Avon Fantasy Reader No. 14 — page 55: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

terous to try and bully the lad. You never got anywhere that way. And it was most old-fashioned. In the corner of the room, almost behind a screen that hid a wash basin, was an easy chair. Jeffry made it his in the evenings, ostensibly to chat with Ronald, but really to watch theyritual that went on, commencing when the light sneaked slowly from the room across the sky into the west. Out of his play closet Ronald would bring scores more soldiers to supple- ment the ones that, all day, had been grouped in small clusters around the room. Jeffry watched this procedure for several nights before he felt that it was time to pop a few questions. This evening Wilburts watched as the twelve-year-old arranged his minia- ture troops. The tutor was once more taken with the precise and scientific way the lad covered the room with his knots of soldiers. “Ronald.” “Um?” “Why do you do this every night?” “Cause I need to, that’s why.” “You like to have them around you, eh” The little boy’s face was tight-lipped and grim for one so young. He said nothing for a moment. “T have to have them around me.” He placed six blue-clad soldiers on the edge of the washstand beside Jeffry. Wilburts found himself staring at the soldiers fascinatedly. Their uniforms were such exact replicas of the real thing, their equipment so cleverly copied, their little figures stalwart in rigid posture—only their little gray-white lead faces completely unlifelike, expressionless like putty-wax dolls. Wilburts looked from one to the other of the six little figurines. All their faces wore a blank, mysterious, nothingness expression, an ageless passiveness that could only be achieved in lead. Jeffry Wilburts counted forty-five soldiers around the room. Some were on the bed table, others, numbering among them several machine gunners, were on the floor at the four corners of the bed. Wilburts shook his head and after good nights were said went off to his room down the hall. The situation was an intriguing one. Here was a lad who was logical on all subjects as far as he, Jeffry Wilburts, could make out— and he could make out very well—and yet he had an obsession on soldiers. Wilburts comforted himself to sleep with the thought that the Frosts could not have gotten in a better man for the job of handling the boy. In the morning, violating his usual custom of dressing and going right down to breakfast, Wilburts went in Ronald’s room sull in slippers and bathrobe. The boy was bending over somcthing on the floor and didn’t hear Jeffry. “Morning,” said Wilburts lustily. Young Frost turned quickly, putting his hand behind his back. He glow- ered at the tutor. Wilburts started forward slowly. Ah ha, here was something interesting. 53 comiclsooks.com