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lasted for the briefest of moments. “For both, I imagine parents would complain about the permissive attitude. In addition, the details might open a can of worms for inquisitive minds.” He handed Volume 4, The Abnormal Aspects of Sex, to Delilah and Volume 2, Historical Attitudes Toward Love and Sex , to the English and Western Civ teacher, Mary Westburn.
    â€œBoth Attaining Manhood: A Doctor Talks To Boys About Sex and the Attaining Womanhood companion volume are matter of fact and informative. There is not too much technical terminology, but it is scientific. There’s nothing salacious at all. Nor socialistic.” He smiled toward Delilah. “And they are illustrated.” He gave both slim grey books to Cameron McKay.
    â€œFinally, there are some movie reels: Social-Sex Attitudes in Adolescence, The Meaning of Adolescence, and Physical Aspects of Puberty. I didn’t look at them, but I’d hazard that the last is more perfunctory than the others. Obviously, they should be secondary or supplementary.”
    â€œOh, yes. Mrs. Partridge must have heard about this meeting because she stopped by and gave me a copy of her Home Economics textbook.” He held up the last of the books in his stack. “This brand new Junior Homemaking is fine, but it is really just a textbook designed to help girls become good housewives—if ‘How Pretty Can You Be?’ and ‘Are You a Household Treasure?’ are chapter titles we can judge by. It ought to remain in Home Ec.”
    He handed that heavy volume to Mrs. Pratt, who flipped through the pages intently. An instant later she snapped her fingers. “Perhaps we could comb through the books and type up our own booklet, one that’s suited to our needs here. It would certainly not be costly. And that way there’d be no extraneous material.”
    â€œAre you volunteering your time?” At that moment, it was obvious to Winston that Cameron McKay joined committees because he was a bully. His natural prey were sheepish do-gooders like Delilah and Betty Pratt, gentle women, he imagined, who wouldn’t put up much of a fight.
    â€œIf we worked together, it’d be done in no time,” was her spirited reply.
    Delilah thanked Winston for his efforts. She spoke to the others and then told him that they had some decisions to make. “Now’s when the fun begins, Winston. Naturally, you may stay if you like, but I have the feeling that we will be burning the midnight oil.” Her face pinched for an instant as she settled her eyes on Cameron McKay. She’d give Winston the inside story during her recess in the morning, he could guess.
    â€œAs much as I’d welcome the chance,” he said, sliding from the bench, “I should get home, check in on Mother. I’ll get those books back from you tomorrow. There’s no rush, though, if you’d like to keep them a while longer. Good luck.”

J[une 19]59
    In the first week following his visit, Winston was a dedicated student of the specialist’s thumb press technique. Arriving home from school each afternoon, he’d eagerly take off his shoes and socks filled with the hope—ridiculous, and he knew it—that the doctor’s hazy prognostication would correspond to some visible change: mind over matter. When that fleshly material proved resistant, he decided that as a diagnosis Time heals all wounds was sketchy enough to become the byword for turbaned clairvoyants at midways near and far; they could adopt it as a handy alternative to “A loved one is concerned about you.” Really, what was the use of saying it? Death would drain his foot, no doubt. And that was only a matter of time . Anything and everything was a matter of time.
    After that one obstinate foot failed to obey his will, he began to give the pair of them a nominal inspection in the morning. Practical choice won over speculative hand-wringing: he’d discovered that