"Thomas is our first heroine--or martyr," said Wyn, and swept the cat up from the floor. Over the protests of the children, he stripped off the doll clothing. "You youngsters go out on the side lawn and play. Uncle Don will take care of you for a while." Caring for the children had been my chore for so long I was accustomed to the peculiarities involved. Mark was as much a problem as any normal, active boy--no more. But Summer's reverse living, her reverse memory, made her even more difficult to deal with as she reverted to childish habits and attitudes. For some weeks now, she had indulged in the fantasy that she was Mark and Mark was she, a game Mark rebelled at strenuously. At the same time, her manner of speaking had become so confused and tangled that it was often incoherent. If Wyn failed in his experiment, the next nine years threatened to be trying indeed. The children left the house with me docilely enough, but as soon as we reached the lawn Mark burst into tears. "What's the matter with you, young fellow?" I asked in surprise. "What's Daddy going to do to Thomas?" he demanded. "Daddy's going to hurt Thomas!" "Don't worry, Thomas isn't going to be hurt," I reassured him, aware that I might not be telling the truth. The boy looked at me straight. "I know what a martyr is," he said indignantly, his sobs subsiding. "I studied Joan of Arc in school." "Daddy ... Thomas in big furnace put," Summer informed us in her labored fashion. "Thomas all burnt up was going to. Him ... but I him saved. Saved him, Summer and I." "Neither one of you is going to do anything about Thomas right now," I said brusquely, recognizing Summer's use of the past tense as an expression of intention. "When Daddy's through with Thomas, you may play with him again." Mark subsided, but he retained on his face a rebellious expression which had by now become familiar to me. Summer, although she said nothing for a few moments, became more excited. She alternately flushed and paled, breathing hard, until I began to fear she was ill. Now a deep, powerful hum arose from the house. Wyn had switched on the power and was ready for his experiment. It was a tremendous volume of sound, a physical thing that throbbed through the ground under our feet and caused the leaves of the trees to tremble as in a breeze. An electric tension filled the air and seemed to intensify Summer's agitation. Her eyes dilated in fright and her teeth began to chatter. "Away got I but!" she cried suddenly in a shrill voice. "Up blew it before away ran he and Thomas saved I! Me with up blew it and fire of full furnace big a was it! Furnace a in Thomas had they!" "Here, child!" I shouted above the increasing roar of the generators. "You're hysterical. Nothing's going to happen to Thomas." She quieted abruptly, glaring at Mark in affright. He stared back, equally alarmed. "He isn't, Summer he's?" she asked me plaintively. "Boy a be Summer could how? Mark I'm know I."