Dr. Dorian
THE NEXT day was Saturday. Fern stood
at the kitchen sink drying the breakfast
dishes as her mother washed them. Mrs.
Arable worked silently. She hoped Fern
would go out and play with other children, instead of
heading for the Zuckermans' bam to sit and watch
animals.
"Charlotte is the best storyteller I ever heard," said
Fern, poking her dish towel into a cereal bowl.
"Fern," said her mother sternly, "you must not in-
vent things. You know spiders don't tell stories. Spiders
can't talk."
"Charlotte can," replied Fern. "She doesn't talk
very loud, but she talks."
"What kind of story did she tell?" asked Mrs. Arable.
"Well," began Fern, "she told us about a cousin of
hers who caught a fish in her web. Don't you think
that's fascinating?"
"Fern, dear, how would a fish get in a spider's web?"
said Mrs. Arable. "You know it couldn't happen.
You're making this up."
"Oh, it happened all right," replied F em. "Charlotte
never fibs. This cousin of hers built a web across a
stream. One day she was hanging around on the web
and a tiny fish leaped into the air and got tangled in the
web. The fish was caught by one fin, Mother; its tail
was wildly thrashing and shining in the sun. Can't you
just see the web, sagging dangerously under the weight
of the fish? Charlotte's cousin kept slipping in, dodging
out, and she was beaten mercilessly over the head by the
wildly thrashing fish, dancing in, dancing out, throw-
. .. mg ...
"Fern!" snapped her mother. "Stop it! Stop invent-
ing these wild tales! "
"I'm not inventing," said Fern. "I'm just telling you
the facts."
"What finally happened?" asked her mother, whose
curiosity began to get the better of her.
"Charlotte's cousin won. She wrapped the fish up,
then she ate him when she got good and ready. Spiders
have to eat, the same as the rest of us."
"Yes, I suppose they do," said Mrs. Arable, vaguely.
"Charlotte has another cousin who is a balloonist.
She stands on her head, lets out a lot of line, and is car-
ried aloft on the wind. Mother, wouldn't you simply
love to do that?"
"Yes, I would, come to think of it," replied Mrs.
Arable. "But Fern, darling, I wish you would play outdoors today instead of going to Uncle Homer's barn.
Find some of your playmates and do something nice
outdoors. You're spending too much time in that bam
-it isn't good for you to be alone so much."
"Alone?" said Fern. "Alone? My best friends are in
the barn cellar. It is a very sociable place. Not at all
lonely."
Fern disappeared after a while, walking down the
road toward Zuckermans'. Her mother dusted the
sitting room. As she worked she kept thinking about
Fern. It didn't seem natural for a little girl to be so in-
terested in animals. Finally Mrs. Arable made up her
mind she would pay a call on old Doctor Dorian and
ask his advice. She got in the car and drove to his office
in the village.
Dr. Dorian had a thick beard. He was glad to see
Mrs. Arable and gave her a comfonable chair.
"It's about Fern," she explained. "Fern spends en-
tirely too much time in the Zuckermans' bam. It
doesn't seem normal. She sits on a milk stool in a comer
of the barn cellar, near the pigpen, and watches animals,
hour after hour. She just sits and listens."
Dr. Dorian leaned back and closed his eyes.
"How enchanting! " he said. "It must be real nice
and quiet down there. Homer has some sheep, hasn't
he?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Arable. "But it all started with that pig we let Fern raise on a bottle. She calls him Wilbur.
Homer bought the pig, and ever since it left our place
Fern has been going to her uncle's to be near it."
"I've been hearing things about that pig," said Dr.
Dorian, opening his eyes. "They say he's quite a pig."
"Have you heard about the words that appeared in
the spider's web?" asked Mrs. Arable nervously.
"Yes," replied the doctor.
"Well, do you' understand it? " asked Mrs. Arable.
"Understand what?"
"Do you understand how there could be any writing
in a spider's web? "
"Oh, no," said Dr. Dorian. "I don't understand it.
But for that matter I don't understand how a spider
learned to spin a web in the first place. When the words
appeared, everyone said they were a miracle. But no-
body pointed out that the web itself is a miracle."
"What's miraculous about a spider's web?" said Mrs.
Arable. "I don't see why you say a web is a miracle-
it's just a web."
"Ever try to spin one?" asked Dr. Dorian.
Mrs. Arable shifted uneasily in her chair. "No," she
replied. "But I can crochet a doily and I can knit a
sock."
"Sure," said the doctor. "But somebody taught you,
didn't they?"
"My mother taught me."
"Well, who taught a spider? A young spider knows
how to spin a web without any instructions from any-
body. Don't you regard that as a miracle?"
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Arable. "I never looked at
it that way before. Still, I don't understand how those
words got into the web. I don't understand it, and I
don't like what I can't understand."
"None of us do," said Dr. Dorian, sighing. "I'm a
doctor. Doctors are supposed to understand everything.
But I don't understand everything, and I don't intend
to let it worry me."
Mrs. Arable fidgeted. "Fern says the animals talk to
each other. Dr. Dorian, do you believe animals talk?"
"I never heard one say anything," he replied. "But
that proves nothing. It is quite possible that an animal
has spoken civilly to me and that I didn't catch the
remark because I wasn't paying attention. Children pay
better attention than grownups. If Fern says that the
animals in Zuckerman's barn talk, I'm quite ready to
believe her. Perhaps if people talked less, animals would
talk more. People are incessant talkers-I can give you
my word on that."
"Well, I feel better about Fern," said Mrs. Arable.
"You don't think I need worry about her?"
"Does she look well? " asked the doctor.
"Oh, yes."
"Appetite good?"
"Oh, yes, she's always hungry."
"Sleep well at night? "
"Oh, yes."
"Then don't worry," said the doctor.
Ill
"Do you think she'll ever start thinking about some-
thing besides pigs and sheep and geese and spiders?"
"How old is Fern?"
"She's eight."
"Well," said Dr. Dorian, "I think she will always
love animals. But I doubt that she spends her entire life
in Homer Zuckerman's bam cellar. How about boys-
does she know any boys?"
"She knows Henry Fussy," said Mrs. Arable
brightly.
Dr. Dorian closed his eyes again and went into deep
thought. "Henry Fussy," he mumbled. "Hmm. Re-
markable. Well, I don't think you have anything to
worry about. Let Fern associate with her friends in the
barn if she wants to. I would say, offhand, that spiders
and pigs were fully as interesting as Henry Fussy. Yet
I predict that the day will come when even Henry will
drop some chance remark that catches Fern's attention.
It's amazing how children change from year to year.
How's Avery?" he asked, opening his eyes wide.
"Oh, Avery," chuckled Mrs. Arable. "Avery is al-
ways fine. Of course, he gets into poison ivy and gets stung by wasps and bees and brings frogs and snakes
home and breaks everything he lays his hands on. He's
fine."
"Good!" said the doctor.
Mrs. Arable said goodbye anJ thanked Dr. Dorian
very much for his advice. She felt greatly relieved.