Avon Fantasy Reader No. 14 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

“Well, what then?” Ronald hung silent, then said finally, “I don’t exactly know.” Jeffry Wilburts persisted. “Now you're adding one bad habit to another. You're telling an untruth. We're not thinking of punishing you because you break your soldiers. They're yours, but we're trying to make you see that it is a dreadful waste. It makes your father very angry. You want more and more soldiers—why mother says she bought twenty-five dollars’ worth of lead soldiers for your last birthday. That’s a lot... and then you go and break them.” Ronald was nearly on the point of tears. “But I don’t break them, I tell you.” “Oh Ronald,” Wilburts turned away with a feigned attitude of disgust. “They protect me!” “The soldiers?” “Yes, and they get killed protecting me.” “Oh,” so the lad wanted to carry this fantasy further, eh. “And just what is it that kills them, Germans and Japs, I suppose! Right here!” “No,” cried Ronald. “I tell you I don’t know exactly. It’s something I can feel at night. It comes in here. Into this room.” “And you need the soldiers to protect you, like a bodyguard?” “Yes,” the youngster turned beseeching eyes toward the older man. “I have to have more soldiers. Please help me get them. I don’t know what will hap- pen if I can’t.” That night after Ronald had gone to bed Wilburts had a Jong talk with the Frosts. “It’s my opinion,” said Wilburts pompously, “that you ought to have your croctor look over this chap.” . “Oh dear, you don’t think he’s coming down with anything, do you? There's been a lot of scarlet...” Wilburts interrupted. “No, no, I don’t mean anything like that. I mean, I think this soldier complex has gone a bit too far... . I think we ought to have a doctor . . .” and Jeffry tapped his head. “Oh,” said Mrs. Frost. “We'll get Dr. Brown,” boomed Mr. Frost. “Pll call him before I leave for town tomorrow and we'll have him stop by. I think it’s a good idea, Wil- burts.” On his way to his room Jeffry silently opened the door of Ronald’s room _ and peered inside. The room was dark and from the bed carne the sound of the boy's breathing, deep and regular. Certainly nothing going on now. At least sleep kept him from playing his games. As he turned softly to go, his foot almost struck a lone soldier on the floor near the door. He stooped and saw it was one of the machine gunners he had given Ronald, gun at the ready in a lifelike poise. Wilburts smiled and tiptoed into the hall. Dr. Brown, prototype of the solid, jolly, optimistic country doctor, was in the next day in the late afternoon. He examined Ronald thoroughly and came downstairs with the opinion that “the young chap was high strung with a nervous constitution but physically he’s sound . . . nothing to worry about.” After Brown had huffed and grunted his way into his great coat and de- comiclooks.com