He watched her fill the tub with delight. There had been a tub in the bathroom of the suite he had been in but Smith had not known it was used to hold water; bed baths were all that he had had and not many of those; his trance-like withdrawals had interfered.

Jill tested the water’s temperature. “All right, climb in.”

Smith did not move. Instead he looked puzzled.

“Hurry!” Jill said sharply. “Get in the water.”

The words she used were firmly parts of his human vocabulary and Smith did as she ordered, emotion shaking him. This brother wanted him to place his whole body in the water of life. No such honor had ever come to him; to the best of his knowledge and belief no one had ever before been offered such a holy privilege. Yet he had begun to understand that these others did have greater acquaintance with the stuff of life . . . a fact not yet grokked but which he had to accept.

He placed one trembling foot in the water, then the other . . . and slipped slowly down into the tub until the water covered him completely.

“Hey!” yelled Jill, and reached in and dragged his head and shoulders above water—then was shocked to find that she seemed to be handling a corpse. Good Lord! he couldn’t drown, not in that time. But it frightened her and she shook him. “Smith! Wake up! Snap out of it.”

Smith heard his brother call from far away and returned. His eyes ceased to be glazed, his heart speeded up and he resumed breathing. “Are you all right?” Jill demanded.

“I am all right. I am very happy . . . my brother.”

“You sure scared me. Look, don’t get under the water again. Just sit up, the way you are now.”

“Yes, my brother.” Smith added several words in a curious croaking meaningless to Jill, cupped a handful of water as if it were precious jewels and raised it to his lips. His mouth touched it, then he offered the handful to Jill.

“Hey, don’t drink your bath water! No, I don’t want it, either.”

“Not drink?”

His look of defenseless hurt was such that Jill again did not know what to do. She hesitated, then bent her head and barely touched her lips to the offering. “Thank you.”

“May you never thirst!”

“I hope you are never thirsty, too. But that’s enough. If you want a drink of water, I’ll get you one. But don’t drink any more of this water.”

Smith seemed satisfied and sat quietly. By now Jill was convinced that he had never taken a tub bath before and did not know what was expected of him. She considered the problem. No doubt she could coach him . . . but they were already losing precious time. Maybe she should have let him go dirty.

Oh, well! It was not as bad as tending a disturbed patient in an N.P. ward. She had already got her blouse wet almost to the shoulders in dragging Smith off the bottom; she took it off and hung it up. She had been dressed for the street when she had crushed Smith out of the Center and was wearing a little, pleated pediskirt that floated around her knees. Her jacket she had dropped in the living room. She glanced down at the skirt. Although the pleats were guaranteed permanized, it was silly to get it wet. She shrugged and zipped it off; it left her in brassiere and panties.

Jill looked at Smith. He was staring at her with the innocent, interested eyes of a baby. She found herself blushing, which surprised her, as she had not known that she could. She believed herself to be free of morbid modesty and had no objection to nudity at proper times and places—she recalled suddenly that she had gone on her first bareskin swimming party at fifteen. But this childlike stare from a grown man bothered her; she decided to put up with clammily wet underwear rather than do the obvious, logical thing.

She covered her discomposure with heartiness. “Let’s get busy now and scrub the hide.” She dropped to her knees beside the tub, sprayed soap on him, and started working it into a lather.

Presently Smith reached out and touched her right mammary gland. Jill drew-back hastily, almost dropping the sprayer. “Hey! None of that stuff!”

He looked as if she had slapped him. “Not?” he said tragically.

“‘Not,’” she agreed firmly. She looked at his face and added softly, “It’s all right. Just don’t distract me with things like that when I’m busy.”

He took no more inadvertent liberties and Jill cut the bath short, letting the water drain and having him stand up while she showered the soap off him. Then she dressed with a feeling of relief while the blast dried him. The warm air startled him at first and he began to tremble, but she told him not to be afraid and had him hold onto the grab rail back of the tub while he dried and she dressed.