Those who loved him affectionately remembered him as "Timmy", an energetic boy of six years old. The other boys his age aspired to strike it rich and own fancy cars someday, but all Timmy wanted to do was stay where he was and play. He wanted to be forever young, and here he was. He had his wish, in a way, didn't he? Dead of tuberculosis in 1920. "Whatever he's doing," she tearfully and absent-mindedly murmured. "I know he's not resting in peace. He's playing-- he's gotta be!" "What a thing to say, Rosemary!" Mrs. Cowlstock gaped. "What a thing to say!" "It can't be! You must be kidding!" ---