"I don't mean physical characteristics, Mrs. Holk," the prosecutor hurriedly interjected. "The court is interested only in facts that will prove relevant to the case at hand." "Oh." Mrs. Holk seemed disappointed. "Well, he never played much with the other children because they made so much fun of him. Not that they didn't have a right to, the way he was always acting. Picking up stray dogs and cats, and every thing else under the sun, and telling everybody that would listen how he cured their sores. It was enough to make a person sick. He even claimed that he could cure himself, and that was the reason that he was never sick! Hmmfp. "Of course, he wasn't ever sick. No sir, not a day in his life. Never had the measles or the mumps like my Sally, and even when that terrible flu epidemic hit town he was just as chipper as you please. If you want incidents, I can tell you a dozen. There was one time when he was about five and I was over visiting with his ma. He came running into the house telling some big story about a bird with a busted wing that he had fixed up. Of course, his ma shut him up; she always was too easy on him. Another time--" * * * * * _The man with the too big head and the serene features gazed softly at the witness stand. He remembered about the bird. He had been very young at the time and hadn't known, yet, that everyone didn't have The Gift._ _He had found the little bird at the base of the old oak tree, scared and trembling from the dangers that threatened it out of its known element. He picked it up gently and felt the fluttering of its tiny heart in the palm of his hand. He saw that its wing was injured, and, with a feeling of pity and kindness, he located and repaired the injury. The little bird lay quietly in his hand, as if sensing a friend. Then it flew away into the blue sky._ _He ran into the house to tell his mother about the bird that he had found helpless in the yard and how he had made it well so that it could fly again._ _"Yes darling," his mother smiled tolerantly. "I'm sure you were a good boy."_ _He could see that she had a headache. He could see the pulse and flow of the waves of pain and he wondered why she didn't fix it. He was never sick. It was so easy to be well...._ _With the directness of the very young he asked her, "Mother, why don't you make your headache go away?"_ _His mother dropped to her knees in front of him._ _"Why you sweet boy," she said. "Always thinking of your mother. Here, kiss my head and the ache will go away."_ _Gravely he looked at her. Grownups were a funny lot. He didn't have to kiss her head to make the headache go away; but she was his mother and he loved her. If she wanted to pretend, why, then he would also. So he kissed her head and caused the ache and pain to recede and disappear. Laughing, his mother got to her feet, took two aspirin tablets, and shooed him out to play. Strange, that he couldn't remember Mrs. Holk being there...._