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ordered for that week.
The man said, "You are Mrs. Christopher Nest?"
There was a trace of anxiety in her voice as she answered. "Yes. And you are...?"
"My name is Maxwell Hanstark. As you may already know, I am the official psychiatrist for this district. My appointment will last until the end of this year."
Mrs. Nest invited him in. They stepped into a clean living-room. At one end was the television set, at the other end were several chairs. There was nothing between the set and the chairs except a large grey rug which stretched from wall to wall. They walked to the chairs and sat down.
"Now, just what is the matter with your husband, Mrs. Nest?"
Mrs. Nest reached into a large bowl and absently picked up a piece of stale popcorn. She daintily placed it in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before she answered.
"I wish I knew. All he does all day long is sit in the backyard and stare at the grass. He insists that he is standing on top of a cliff."
Hanstark took out a small pad and a short ball-point pen. He wrote something down before he spoke again. "Is he violent? Did he get angry when you told him there was no cliff?"
Mrs. Nest was silent for a moment. A second piece of popcorn joined the first. Hanstark's pen was poised above the pad. "No. He didn't get violent."
Hanstark wrote as he asked the next question. "Just what was his reaction?"
"He said I must be crazy."
"Were those his exact words?"
"No. He said that I was"-- She thought for a moment--"loco. Yes, that was the word."
"Loco?"
"Yes. He said it just like those cowboys on the television."
Hanstark looked puzzled. "Perhaps you had better tell me more about this. When did he first start acting this way?"
Mrs. Nest glanced up at the television set, then back at Hanstark. "It was right after Texas Week. You remember--they showed all of those old cowboy pictures."
Hanstark nodded.
"Well, he stayed up every n