It was pretty bare, of course. They had packed most of their things; probably had them stored aboard ship by now. But there was enough furniture left that went with the house for us to sit down on. "How wonderful! How wonderful of you to come and see us!" said Dolores. She was a tall, dark, big breasted girl with classical features in the Byzantine sense. Her hair was black, her movements languid, her voice deep and melodius. "We couldn't see you go to the stars without saying goodbye," said Celia. "We talked about you so often," Dolly said. "Wondering how you were. What you were doing." I found it hard to imagine this exotic, beautiful woman transplanted to an alien world in the role of pioneer farmgirl. "We've thought about you too," said Celia. "So many times." It was awkward. Solly and I hadn't exchanged more than five words. "Would you like some refreshments?" said Dolly. "Drinks? Something to eat?" She smiled at me and smiled at Freddie, and nodded yes until Freddie nodded with her. "Sure you do," she said. We laughed. Dolly stood up. "We weren't expecting our guests for another hour, but everything's ready." She and Celia and Freddie went into the kitchen. I hated to be left alone with Solly, and I suppose the feeling was reciprocal. "Are you glad to be going?" I inquired neutrally. "Very." "How long does it take to get there?" "Two and a half years." "That's a long time!" "Not considering the distance. Primus Gladus is nine-tenths of a light-year away." "Funny," I said, "a star being that close, undiscovered until this century." "It's not a bright star. Half the luminosity of our sun. For all we know, there may be others just as close." Solly meditated on the idea. "I suppose that's possible," I said. "Must be thousands of stars in the southern skies--faint stars, I mean--that haven't been measured." We were both silent. There seemed nothing further to say. The distance was as far between us as between Sol and Primus Gladus. I fumbled in my briefcase. "This is something that may interest you, Solly." I handed him the folder containing his topsoil project. "Found it in my file just this afternoon. Thought maybe you could use it where you're going." He looked at it. His forehead wrinkled in a frown. "Remember?" I cued him. "College days?" * * * * * A light came into his eyes from a source thousands of light-years away. "Oh yes," he uttered slowly, a faint smile touching the corners of his mouth. "That was our big business venture. The Topsoil Initiator." He looked at me peculiarly. "Bart, how come you kept it all these years?" "I always thought it was a good idea." This was not a lie. "But why," I said, "haven't _you_ done anything with it?" "O-o-o-oh," he drawled, "no drive, I guess. The real reason, I guess, is that I never had enough money to buy a barren, rocky acre where I could give it a practical tryout."