He bowed, and bowed again, and spent thirty seconds reminding me that it was _he_ who had sought the interview, and it was _he_ who had the big favors to ask--and it was wonderful, gracious, generous _I_ who flavored the room with the essence of mystery, importance, godliness and overpowering sweetness upon whose fragrance little Ollie Johnson had come to feast his undeserving senses. "Sit down, sit down," I told him when I had soaked in all the celestial flattery I could hold. "I love you to pieces, too, but I'm curious about this proposition you mentioned in your message." He eased into the chair as if it were much too good for him. He was strictly humanoid. His four-and-a-half-foot body was dressed in the most conservative Earth clothing, quiet colors and cheap quality. While he swallowed slowly a dozen times, getting ready to outrage my illustrious being with his sordid business proposition, his coloring varied from a rather insipid gray-green to a rich olive--which is why the press instantly had dubbed them _Ollies_. When they got excited and blushed, they came close to the color of a ripe olive; and this was often. * * * * * Ollie Johnson hissed a few times, his equivalent of throat-clearing, and then lunged into his subject at a 90 degree tangent: "Can it be that your gracious agreement to this interview connotes a willingness to traffic with us of the inferior ones?" His voice was light, almost reedy. "If it's legal and there's a buck in it, can't see any reason why not," I told him. "You manufacture and distribute devices, I am told. Wonderful labor-saving mechanisms that make life on Earth a constant pleasure." I was almost tempted to hire him for my public relations staff. "We do," I admitted. "Servo-mechanisms, appliances and gadgets of many kinds for the home, office and industry." "It is to our everlasting disgrace," he said with humility, "that we were unable to salvage the means to give your magnificent civilization the worthy gift of our space drive. Had Flussissc or Shascinssith survived our long journey, it would be possible, but--" He bowed his head, as if waiting for my wrath at the stale news that the only two power-mechanic scientists on board were D.O.A. "That was tough," I said. "But what's on your mind now?" He raised his moist eyes, grateful at my forgiveness. "We who survived do possess a skill that might help repay the debt which we have incurred in intruding upon your glorious planet." He begged my permission to show me something in the outer waiting room. With more than casual interest, I assented. He moved obsequiously to the door, opened it and spoke to someone beyond my range of vision. His words sounded like a repetition of "_sissle-flissle_." Then he stepped aside, fastened his little wet eyes on me expectantly, and waited. [Illustration]