Mrs. Hanford opened the door and saw Scholar Ross. She smiled
uncertainly at him as she invited him in. In the Hanford living room,
in the presence of Mr. Hanford, the scholar of genetics looked around
cautiously and questingly. Hanford said, "Gloria is not here. She's
out."
"Then I may speak openly."
"Of course. Is there some trouble--again?"
"Frankly, I'm not certain," said the scholar of genetics slowly. "I'd
like more information if you'd be so good as to help."
"Of course we'll help!" exclaimed Mrs. Hanford. "What's bothering you?"
"How is your daughter getting on with Bertram Harrison?"
"Why, I'd guess they're getting along about as well as any other young
pre-marriage couple. That's what the engagement period is for, isn't
it? I mean, it's been that way historically."
"Yes, you're right," nodded Scholar Ross. "Did they rent the usual
pre-marriage apartment?"
"Oh yes. They were quite the conventional young lovers, Scholar Ross."
The man from the Department of Domestic Tranquility smiled. "And you,
of course, were the conventional parents of the affianced bride?"
"Of course. We were so pleased that we could hardly wait for Twelfth
Night."
"And during that visit, were the appointments of the apartment proper?"
"Why, Scholar Ross!"
"No, no, Mrs. Hanford, you misunderstand. I implied no moral question.
I really meant to ask if you knew whether Gloria and Bertram each and
separately were properly continuing their therapy."
Mr. Hanford grunted. "As parents of the affianced bride," he said,
"we're paying for it!"
Mrs. Hanford blushed. "I--er--snooped," she said.
Scholar Ross looked at Mrs. Hanford with an expression that indicated
that snooping was an entirely acceptable form of social behavior. "And
what did you find?"
"Everything entirely right." Then she looked doubtful and bit her lower
lip. "Scholar Ross, I'm no authority in these matters. In Gloria's
bathroom were the same-_looking_ kind of bottles and pills that we got
when you prescribed, and when I turned on the speaker in her bedroom
it sounded like the same kind of music as I'd heard in her bedroom when
she was living at home. It--frankly--depressed me."
"And Bertram's?"
"I know less of his medication. But I did listen to his music outlet.
It removed the feeling of depression I'd gotten from Gloria's program
material."
"That's quite right. It sounds reasonable."
* * * * *
She blushed again and looked at her husband. "Only one thing," she said
very slowly.
"What's that?"
"I--er, hardly know how to put it. You see, when Gerald and I were
affianced, neither one of us were undergoing any kind of corrective
therapy and so I don't know how these things work out."
"What are you driving at?"
"Why, Scholar Ross, with neither of us undergoing corrective therapy,
it didn't matter which one of the bedrooms we used."
Scholar Ross considered for a moment and then nodded. "Of course," he
said with an air of complete finality. "That's it!"
"What's it?" asked Mr. Hanford.
"The situation becomes a simple matter of reduction to the law of
most-active reaction. Look," he said, "we have one personality that
requires an environment of stimulation to bring him up to normal, and
another personality that requires a tranquil atmosphere to normal.
Place them both in the tranquilizing environment and he is driven
deeper into his lethargy, probably to the point of complete physical
and intellectual torpor. Place them both in the stimulating atmosphere
and he becomes normal while she goes into transports of sensuous
excitement. This explains it!"
"Explains what?" demanded Mr. Hanford.
"Her recent behavior. Or rather escapade."
None of them heard the gentle snick of the lock in the front door.
"Escapade?" exclaimed Mrs. Hanford.
"We didn't know that she was in any trouble," said Mr. Hanford.
"That's just the point," said Scholar Ross. "Your daughter has the
infuriating habit of indulging in outrageous behavior under the name of
brilliant intellectual accomplishment."