"Speaking of direction," said Walt thoughtfully, "have you figured out why the solar beam is always pointing behind Sol?" "I haven't given that much thought. I've always thought that it was due to the alignment plates not being in linear perfection so that the power beam bends. They can make the thing turn a perfect right angle, you know." "Well, I've been toying with the resurrected heap you dropped into Lake Michigan a couple of months ago, and I've got a good one for you. You know how the beam seems to lock into place when we've got it turned to Sol, not enough to make it certain, but more than detectably directive?" "Yep. We could toss out the motor control that keeps her face turned to the sun." "That's what I was hoping to gain--" started Walt, but he stopped as the door opened and Arden entered, followed by a man and woman. "Hello," said Walt in a tone of admiration. "This is Jim Baler and his sister Christine," said Arden. "Baler, the guy with the worried look on his face is my legally wedded spouse--souse--no, spouse. And the guy with the boudoir gorilla gleam in his vulpine eye is that old vulture, Walt Franks." Walt took the introduction in his stride and offered Christine his chair. Arden stuck her tongue out at him, but Walt shrugged it off, ignoring her. Channing shook hands with Jim Baler and then sought the 'S' drawer of his file cabinet. He found the Scotch and the soda, and then grinned: "Should have the ice under 'I,' but it's sort of perishable, and so we keep it in the refrigerator. Arden, breach the 'G' drawer and haul out the glasses, will you please? I suppose we could refrigerate the whole cabinet, but it wouldn't sound right if people heard that we kept their mail on ice. Well--" "Here's how, if we don't already know," said Walt, clinking glasses with Christine. "Walt earned that 'wolf' title honestly," laughed Arden, "he likes to think. Frankly, he's a sheep in wolf's clothing!" "What are his other attributes?" asked Christine. "He invents. He scribbles a bit. He cuts doodles on tablecloths, and he manages to get in the way all the time," said Don. "We keep him around the place for his entertainment value." "Why--" "Quiet, Walter, or I shall explain the sordid details of the Walter Franks Electron Gun." "What was that one?" asked Christine. "You really wouldn't want to know," Walt told her. "Oh, but I would." "Yeah," growled Franks, "you would." "Would you rather hear it from him, or me?" Arden asked. "He'll tell me," said Christine. Her tone was positive and assured. "And that'll take care of that," said Arden. "But I think we interrupted something. What were you saying about gaining, Walt?" * * * * *