you wanted to be a space engineer. You can’t do that without an education you know. And your Aunt Bee will take good care of you."
Tommy faced him stubbornly. "I don’t want to be any old spaceman. I want to be a sandfoot like old Pete. And I want to go home."
Helen bit back a smile at the two earnest, stubborn faces so ridiculously alike, and hastened to avert the gathering storm.
"Now look, fellows. Tommy’s career doesn’t have to be decided in the next five minutes ... after all, he’s only ten. He can make up his mind later on if he wants to be an engineer or a rabbara farmer. Right now, he’s going to stay here and go to school ... and I’m staying with him."
Resolutely avoiding both crestfallen faces, Helen, having shepherded Tommy to bed, returned to the living room acutely conscious of Big Tom’s bleak, hurt gaze at her back.
"Helen, you’re going to make a sissy out of the boy," he said at last. "There isn’t any reason why he can’t stay here at home with Bee."
Helen turned to face him.
"Earth isn’t home to Tommy. And your sister Bee told him he ought to be out playing football with the boys instead of hanging around the house."
"But she knows the doctor said he’d have to take it easy for a year till he was accustomed to the change in gravity and air-pressure," he answered incredulously.
"Exactly. She also asked me," Helen went on grimly, "if I thought he’d be less of a freak as he got older."
Tom Benton swore. "Bee always did have less sense than the average hen," he gritted. "My son a freak! Hell’s-bells!"
Tommy, arriving at the hall door in time to hear the tail-end of the sentence, crept back to bed feeling numb and dazed. So even his father thought he was a freak.
*
The last few days before parting was one of strain for all of them. If Tommy was unnaturally subdued, no one noticed it; his parents were not feeling any great impulse toward gaiety either.
They all went dutifully sight-seeing as before; they saw the Zoo, and went shopping on the Skywalks, and on the last day wound up at the great showrooms of "Androids, Inc."
Tommy had hated them on sight; they were at once too human and too inhuman for comfort. The hotel was full of them, and most private homes had at least one. Now they saw the great incubating vats, and the processing and finally the showroom where one of the finished products was on display as a maid, sweeping and dusting.
"There’s one that’s a dead-ringer for you, Helen. If you were a little better looking, that is." Tommy’s dad pretended to compare them judicially. Helen laughed, but Tommy looked at him with a resentfulness. Comparing his mother to an Android....
"They say for a little extra you can get an exact resemblance. Maybe I’d better have one fixed up like you to take back with me," Big Tom added teasingly. Then as Helen’s face clouded over, "Oh, hon, you know I was only kidding. Let’s get out of here; this place gives me the collywobbles. Besides, I’ve got to pick up my watch."
But his mother’s face was still unhappy and Tommy glowered sullenly at his father’s back all the way to the watch-shop.
It was a small shop, with an inconspicuous sign down in one corner of the window that said only, "KRUMBEIN—watches," and was probably the most famous shop of its kind in the world. Every spaceman landing on Terra left his watch to be checked by the dusty, little old man who was the genius of the place. Tommy ranged wide-eyed about the clock and chronometer crammed interior. He stopped fascinated before the last case. In it was a watch ... but, what a watch! Besides the regulation Terran dial, it had a second smaller dial that registered the corresponding time on Mars. Tommy’s whole heart went out to it in an ecstasy of longing. He thought wistfully that if you could know what time it was there, you could imagine what everyone was doing and it wouldn’t seem so far away. Haltingly, he tried to explain.
"Look, Mom," he said breathlessly. "It’s almost five o’clock at home. Douwie will be coming up to the barn to be fed. Gosh, do you suppose old Pete will remember about her?"
His mother smiled at him reassuringly. "Of course he will, silly. Don’t forget he was the one who caught and tamed her for you."
Tommy gulped as he thought of Douwie. Scarcely as tall as himself; the big, rounded, mouselike ears, and the flat, cloven pads that could carry her so swiftly over the sandy Martian flatlands. One of the last dwindling herds of native Martian douwies, burden-carriers of a vanished race, she had been Tommy’s particular pride and joy for the last three years.
Behind him, Tommy heard his mother murmur under her breath, "Tom ... the watch; could we?"
And his Dad regretfully, "It’s a pretty expensive toy for a youngster, Helen. And even a rabbara raiser’s bank account has limits."
"Of course, dear; it was silly of me." Helen smiled a little ruefully. "And if Mr. Krumbein has your watch ready, we must go. Bee and some of her friends are coming over, and it’s only a few hours ‘till you ... leave."
Big Tom squeezed her elbow gently, understandingly, as she blinked back quick tears. Trailing after them, Tommy saw the little by-play and his heart ached. The guilt-complex building up in him grew and deepened.
He knew he had only to say, "Look, I don’t mind staying. Aunt Bee and I will get along swell," and everything would be all right again. Then the terror of this new and complex world—as it would be without a familiar face—swept over him and kept him silent.
His overwrought feelings expressed themselves in a nervously rebelling stomach, culminating in a disgraceful moment over the nearest gutter. The rest of the afternoon he spent in bed recuperating.
In the living room Aunt Bee spoke her mind in her usual, high-pitched voice.
"It’s disgraceful, Helen. A boy his age.... None of the Bentons ever had nerves."
His mother’s reply was inaudible, but on the heels of his father’s deeper tones, Aunt Bee’s voice rose in rasping indignation.
"Well! I never! And from my own brother, too. From now on don’t come to me for help with your spoiled brat. Good-bye!"
The door slammed indignantly, his mother chuckled, and there was a spontaneous burst of laughter. Tommy relaxed and lay back happily. Anyway, that was the last of Aunt Bee!
*
The next hour or two passed in a flurry of ringing phones, people coming and going, and last-minute words and reminders. Then suddenly it was time to leave. Dad burst in for a last quick hug and a promise to send him pictures of Douwie and her foal, due next month; Mother dropped a hasty kiss on his hair and promised to hurry back from the Spaceport. Then Tommy was alone, with a large, painful lump where his heart ought to be.
The only activity was the almost noiseless buzzing as the hotel android ran the cleaner over the living room. Presently even that ceased, and Tommy lay relaxed and inert, sleepily watching the curtains blow in and out at the open window. Thirty stories above the street the noises were pleasantly muffled and remote, and his senses drifted aimlessly to and fro on the tides of half-sleep.
Drowsily his mind wandered from the hotel’s android servants
