as to say that,' he murmured.
'Then how far would you go?'
'Perhaps 'late developer' would be more accurate. The fact of the matter is that Peregrine has difficulty conceptualizing.'
'So do I, come to that,' said Mr Clyde-Browne. 'What on earth does it mean?'
'Well, as a matter of fact...'
'That's the third time you've prefaced a matter of no fact whatsoever by using that phrase,' said Mr Clyde-Browne in his nastiest courtroom manner. 'Now I want the truth.'
'In short, he takes everything he's told as Gospel.'
'As Gospel?'
'Literally. Absolutely literally.'
'He takes the Gospel literally?' said Mr Clyde-Browne, hoping for a chance to vent his feelings about Religious Education in a rational world.
'Not just the Gospel. Everything,' said the headmaster, who was finding the interview almost as harassing as trying to teach Peregrine. 'He seems incapable of distinguishing between a general instruction and the particular. Take the time, for instance.'
'What time?' asked Mr Clyde-Browne, with a glazed look in his eyes.
'Just time. Now if one of the teachers sets the class some work to do and adds, 'Take your own time,' Peregrine invariably says 'Eleven o'clock.''
'Invariably says 'Eleven o'clock'?'
'Or whatever the time happens to be. It could be half past nine or quarter to ten.'
'In that case he can't invariably say 'Eleven o'clock',' said Mr Clyde-Browne, resorting to cross-examination to fight his way out of the confusion.
'Well, not invariably eleven o'clock,' conceded the headmaster, 'but invariably some time or other. Whatever his watch happens to tell him. That's what I mean about him taking everything literally. It makes teaching him a distinctly unnerving experience. Only the other day I told his class they'd got to pull their socks up, and Peregrine promptly did. It was exactly the same in Bible Studies. The Reverend Wilkinson said that everyone ought to turn over a new leaf. During the break Peregrine went to work on the camellias. My wife was deeply upset.'
Mr Clyde-Browne followed his glance out of the window and surveyed the stripped bushes. 'Isn't there some way of explaining the difference between metaphorical or colloquial expressions and factual ones?' he asked plaintively.
'Only at the expense of a great deal of time and effort. Besides we have the other children to consider. The English language is not easily adapted to pure logic. We must just hope that Peregrine will develop quite suddenly and learn not to do exactly what he's told.'
It was a sadder but no wiser Mr Clyde-Browne who returned to The Cones. That evening, after a heated argument with his wife, whom he blamed entirely for bringing Peregrine up too dutifully, he tried to explain to his son the hazards involved in doing exactly what he was told.
'You could get into terrible trouble, you know. People are always saying things they don't really mean and if you do what they tell you, everything they tell you, you'll end up in Queer Street.'
Peregrine looked puzzled. 'Where's Queer Street, daddy?' he asked.
Mr Clyde-Browne studied the boy with a mixture of cautious curiosity and ill-concealed irritation. Now that it had been drawn to his attention, Peregrine's adherence to the literal had about it something of the same cunning Mrs Clyde-Browne displayed when confronted by facts she preferred not to discuss. He had in mind extravagant use of the housekeeping money. Perhaps Peregrine's stupidity was as deliberate as his mother's. If so, there was still hope.
'Queer Street is nowhere. It is simply an expression meaning a bad end.'
Peregrine considered this for a moment. 'How can I go there if it's nowhere?' he asked finally.
