He grimaced
like a small boy in a dentist's chair.
Colonel Hampton felt Dearest leave him for a moment. Then she was back.
"The ambulance." Then he caught a sparkle of mischief in her mood.
"Let's have some fun, Popsy! The doctor is a young man, with brown hair
and a mustache, horn-rimmed glasses, a blue tie and a tan-leather bag.
One of the ambulance men has red hair, and the other has a
mercurochrome-stain on his left sleeve. Tell them your spirit-guide told
you."
The old soldier's tobacco-yellowed mustache twitched with amusement.
"No, gentlemen, it is the ambulance," he corrected. "My spirit-control
says...." He relayed Dearest's descriptions to them.
T. Barnwell Powell blinked. A speculative look came into the
psychiatrist's eyes; he was probably wishing the commitment paper hadn't
been destroyed.
Then the doctor came bustling in, brown-mustached, blue-tied,
spectacled, carrying a tan bag, and behind him followed the two
ambulance men, one with a thatch of flaming red hair and the other with
a stain of mercurochrome on his jacket-sleeve.
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