* * * * * The clear-eyed old Nemarian he'd been talking to had just turned away when she came up. "Good evening. How do you like bird's eggs a la Nemar?" Jeannette pointed to the shells beside him. "Hello. They're very good." He motioned her to sit down. "The youngsters here gather them out of the trees. They make a sport of it." She reached for one from the pile near them and tapped it open. "Sentimental creatures--they always leave one or two so the mother bird won't be unhappy." Kirk was trying to draw his eyes away from the young Nemarian mother in the group near him who was complacently nursing her baby in full view of everyone. Jeannette stared in the direction of his look. "Oh, you'll get used to that soon enough." He wondered if he would. They made a rather touching picture, though, he realized through his embarrassment. There was a lot of tenderness in the woman's gestures. "They spoil their children rotten." Kirk looked surprised. "The ones I've seen have been very courteous." She shrugged. "Oh, they're polite enough. But just try and make them do something they don't want to! They're completely undisciplined--they're fed when they please, they sleep when they please, they do whatever they like. They have schools for them, but it's completely up to the children whether they want to go or not. The parents haven't a thing to say about it. No one ever lays a hand to them, no matter what they do." "I haven't noticed any quarreling," he said, surprised at his own observation. It was true. He hadn't seen a sign of it, even between the children themselves, though they made enough noise yelling and romping. "Oh, those tactics fit them perfectly for this society," she said indifferently. "The adults here are just like the children. Nobody ever does any work." "But that's impossible. The food, the houses, the--" "Well, I suppose I exaggerated. They do things they don't like once in awhile, if they want the end product enough. But mostly, if they can't make a big game of it, they don't do it. Tomorrow's nut-gathering day," she added irrelevantly. "Nut-gathering day?" "Yes. Everybody frolics off into the hills to pick nuts. Like a picnic. That's what I mean--if they didn't consider it a pleasure outing, the nuts could hit them on the head, and they'd never bother to pick them up." She cocked her head at him. "Want to go?" "Go where? Nut-gathering, you mean?" He laughed. "No, thanks." "Thought you might like to study the natives in their day-to-day activities, get the real local flavor. You might learn something, at that. Though I guess you'd have a rough time climbing the trees." "I've had an hour a day at gymnastics for the past three years."