“Jubal! Please, Father!”

“Uh . . . yes, Mike? What is it?”

“Wake up! Fullness is not yet. Here, let me help you.”

Jubal sighed. “Okay, Mike.” He let himself be helped and led into the bath, let his head be held while he threw up, accepted a glass of water and rinsed out his mouth.

“Okay now?”

“Okay, son. Thanks.”

“Then I’ve got some things to attend to. I love you, Father. Thou art God.”

“I love you, Mike. Thou art God.” Jubal puttered around for a while longer, making himself presentable, changing his clothes, taking one short brandy to kill the slightly bitter taste still in his stomach, then went out to join the others.

Patty was alone in the room with the babble tank and it was switched off. She looked up. “Some lunch now, Jubal?”

“Yes, thanks.”

She came up to him. “That’s good. I’m afraid most of them simply ate and scooted. But each of them left a kiss for you. And here it is, all in one package.” She managed to deliver in full all the love placed in her proxy cemented together with her own; Jubal found that it left him feeling strong, with her own serene acceptance shared, no bitterness left.

“Come out into the kitchen,” she said. “Tony’s gone so most of the rest are there—not that his growls ever really chased anybody out anyhow.” She stopped and tried to stare down the back of her neck. “Isn’t that final scene changing a little? Sort of smoky, maybe?”

Jubal solemnly agreed that he thought it was. He couldn’t see any change himself . . . but he was not going to argue with Patty’s idiosyncrasy. She nodded. “I expected it. I can see around me all right—except myself. I still need a double mirror to see my back clearly. Mike says my Sight will include that presently. No matter.”

In the kitchen perhaps a dozen were lounging at a table and elsewhere; Duke was standing at the range, stirring a small sauce pan. “Hi, Boss. I ordered a twenty-place bus. That’s the biggest that can land on our little landing flat . . . and we’ll need one almost that big, what with the diaper set and Patty’s pets. Okay?”

“Certainly. Are they all coming home now?” If they ran out of bedrooms, the girls could make up dosses that would do in the living room and here and there—and this crowd would probably double up mostly anyhow. Come to think of it, he might not be allowed to sleep solo himself . . . and he made up his mind not to fight it. It was friendly to have a warm body on the other side of the bed, even if your intentions weren’t active. By God, he had forgotten how friendly it was! Growing closer—

“Not everybody. Tim will pilot us, then turn in the bus and go to Texas for a while. The Skipper and Beatrix and Sven we’re simply going to drop off in New Jersey.”

Sam looked up from the table. “Ruth and I have got to get back to our kids. And Saul is coming with us.”

“Can’t you stop by home for a day or two first?”

“Well, maybe. I’ll talk it over with Ruth.”

“Boss,” put in Duke, “how soon can we fill the swimming pool?”

“Well, we never filled it earlier than the first of April before—but with the new heaters I suppose we could fill it anytime.” Jubal added, “But we’ll still have some nasty weather—snow still on the ground yesterday.”

“Boss, lemme clue you. This gang can walk through snow hip deep on a tall giraffe and not notice it—and will, to swim. Besides that, there are cheaper ways of keeping that water from freezing than with those big oil heaters.”

“Jubal!”

“Yes, Ruth?”

“We’ll stop for a day or maybe more. The kids don’t miss me—and I’m not aching to take over being motherly without Patty to discipline them anyhow. Jubal, you’ve never really seen me until you’ve seen me with my hair floating around me in the water—looking like Mrs. Do As You Would Be Done By.”

“It’s a date. Say, where is the Squarehead and the Dutchman? Beatrix has never been home—they can’t be in such a hurry.”

“I’ll tell ’em, Boss.”

“Patty, can your snakes stand a clean, warm basement for a while? Until we can do better? I don’t mean Honey Bun, of course; she’s people. But I don’t think the cobras should have the run of the house.”

“Of course, Jubal.”

“Mmm—” Jubal looked around. “Dawn, can you take shorthand?”

“She doesn’t need it,” put in Anne, “anymore than I do.”

“I see. I should have known. Use a typewriter?”