‘I doubt it. Somehow this shack he’s got here don’t seem to rouse any stirrings of love. Psychiatrist? Mind doc?’

‘You appreciate them, don’t you?’

‘Of course. For those that need ’em. I don’t. I also don’t need a chiropodist or an aviator.’

They argued in the most spirited manner, those ten minutes. Sara asserted that it was handy for almost anybody to drop in on his psychiatrist now and then, and find out what phobias, schizophrenic reactions, paranoid behaviours, or obsessive-compulsive neuroses he might have developed this past week. Fred said that, in his experience, if your carburetor is working right, don’t let any mechanic monkey with it.

He could not have been expected to know that, in a psychologist’s or a psychiatrist’s office, the only person who is ever permitted to say ‘in my experience’ is the healer.

They were admitted then to the friendly presence of George Carlyon Janissary, B.A., M.A., M.D., L.H.D.; and Fred, who had come to expect a point-headed wizard in a black gown sprinkled with crimson stars, was relieved. Dr. Janissary was a jolly, tweedish, sporting, lanky gentleman, with a long red moustache and sun-browned hands. He smelled of heather, good pipe tobacco and the best soap; he shook hands merrily and spoke in baritone:

‘I don’t really know why you’re here, Brother Cornplow, but Miss Sara seems to have some kind of an idea that I might be able to advise you on how to get the most fun out of your retiring — great idea, retiring; majority of us keep our noses to the grindstone too long. Just as you might advise me about buying an automobile.’

This was fine.

Fred beamed. Sara beamed. Dr. Janissary beamed more than twice as much as both of them put together. But he somewhat less suggested golf courses and the fishing camp on the Ouareau River as he reached for a handful of filing cards and demanded: ‘What was the date of your birth?’

‘What was the calling of your father — his father — his mother’s father — their financial condition?’

‘What do you believe to be your ambition in life?’

‘Do you usually consider yourself passionate or frigid by nature?’

‘Have you any hobby — any interest outside of making money and caring for your family?’

Till this point, Fred had been too hypnotized to do anything but answer meekly, and inadequately, but he shook himself loose:

‘Say, what’s the idea of all this, anyway? Sara, have you signed up for my giving a lecture on my life and adventures? And who pays who for it?’

Dr. Janissary did not think this was in the least funny — for that matter, Fred didn’t think it was so very funny himself.

The doctor was grave and warning:

‘Mr. Cornplow, from what Sara has told me and from what I have already observed, it is clear that you have lost grip — oh, just the least bit; nothing that can’t readily be corrected by psychobiologic re-education. Lost grip on your personal affairs. Don’t be frightened.’