A man presented himself in uniform, a Major, and he introduced himself. He said, “I’m Major Richardson, and I am in charge of the psychiatric ward here. I was in charge at Bellevue, previous to my Army service, in New York City. I have a theory. It’s an experiment I would like you to agree to, that if you visited my patients, your visit would do some good. Would you agree?” And I said, “Well, of course, I would.” He said, “I have to have the post surgeon, the head of the hospital’s, approval first, and I will come back and meet you between wards to let you know if I have received it.” Well, he met me between wards, and he said, “I’ve got the permission. So, at the end of your day — I’ve read your orders, I know exactly what time and at what ward you will finish. I will come and get you,” or “I’ll send for you. You have nothing to worry about. I will have two very sturdy orderlies to protect you.” Well, I hadn’t worried before then, but I certainly began at that moment to worry. To protect?