the good Lord knows He made all children powerful mysterious! This poor
little cuss has a complication of infirmities that have kept him on his
back most of his life, never knowing other children, never playing, or
anything; and he's got ideas and ways that I never saw the beat of! He
was born sick, as I understand it--his bones and nerves and insides are
all wrong, somehow--but it's supposed he gets a little better from year
to year. He wears a pretty elaborate set of braces, and he's subject to
attacks, too--I don't know the name for 'em--and loses what little voice
he has sometimes, all but a whisper. He had one, I know, the day after
Beasley brought him home, and that was probably the reason you thought
Dave was carrying on all to himself about that jumping-match out in the
back-yard. The boy must have been lying there in the little wagon they
have for him, while Dave cut up shines with 'Bill Hammersley.' Of
course, most children have make-believe friends and companions,
especially if they haven't any brothers or sisters, but this lonely
little feller's got HIS people worked out in his mind and materialized
beyond any I ever heard of. Dave got well acquainted with 'em on the
train on the way home, and they certainly are giving him a lively time.
Ho, ho! Getting him up at four in the morning--"

Mr. Dowden's mirth overcame him for a moment; when he had mastered it,
he continued: "Simpledoria--now where do you suppose he got that
name?--well, anyway, Simpledoria is supposed to be Hamilton Swift,
Junior's St. Bernard dog. Beasley had to BATHE him the other day, he
told me! And Bill Hammersley is supposed to be a boy of Hamilton Swift,
Junior's own age, but very big and strong; he has rosy cheeks, and he
can do more in athletics than a whole college track-team. That's the
reason he outjumped Dave so far, you see."