Avon Fantasy Reader No. 14 — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

He was determined to see what Ronald was hiding. The boy backed away from him as he came on. “Ronald, what is it you have there?” The boy said nothing but merely stepped backward until he came against the closet door. He was fumbling for the knob, his eyes hatefully on Jeffry when the companion stepped forward quickly and pinned Ronald’s arms to his sides. “Now, let me see,” gritted Wilburts, surprised at the strength in the young- ster’s body. The two swayed together for a minute, Ronald’s face white with strain and then the man’s strength forced the boy's hands outward and for- ward and then finally the small, tight fingers opened and objects dropped to the floor. Wilburts stepped back, one hand still holding the boy's wrist and bent over. With his other hand he explored downward. The objects were toy soldiers, or, at least, parts of them. Heads and torsos, legs and arms, little guns brokea loose from the soldier that held them to tiny lead bodics—like real soldiers who have been in batile . . . a score of soldiers, broken and bent—dead sol- diers! Ronald stood back now, breathing rapidly. He looked at the floor and then at Wilburts. Jeffry hardly knew what to do. His first impulse was to grin the whole matter off. “Say, you've busted up a lot of those soldiers, Ronald.” To cover his own lack of assurance, he put a note of reprimand in his voice as he talked. The boy satd nothing. He simply knelt down and began to gather up the pieces of the broken soldiers. He turned and walked slowly into the closet and Jeffry heard the noise as they were dropped into a receptacle there. Not knowing what else to do, Wilburts walked back to his own room and, after dressing quickly, went downstairs. Before Ronald arrived he had poured out his story to Mr. and Mrs. Frost. If his soul needed absolution, he got it from the two. “That's just it,” said Mr. Frost. “He demands these soldiers for birthdays and Christmas and God knows any other time that I can be wheedled out of a dollar or so, but the boy is so destructive with them it’s endless. We can’t keep up with him.” “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Wilburts.” Mrs. Frost also put in her oar. “I just wish you could get him away frorn those soldiers permanently. I sometimes think they mean more to him than his father and I do.” Thus, his conscience surfeited, Wilburts attacked his wheat cakes with vigor and did not even look up when Ronald stole in a few minutes later with a small good morning to his parents. Despite his smugness and the disadvantage of theoretical training, Jeffry Wilburts was not entirely lacking in sense. He realized that Ronald, who before had merely tolerated him without question or enthusiasm, now at- tempted to avoid him as much as possible. This would never do. The first goal for the companion or tutor is to win and hold the youngster’s confidence aad friendship. Both from the standpoint of his future as a teacher and tutor 54 comiclooks. conn