Cal Blair headed up the walk from the gate to the front doors of the Association with a springy step. He headed in with determination, but was hailed by Tony Elliott. Tinker's brother grinned at Cal and shook his hand. Cal tried to leave, but Tony kept him for a moment. "For a guy that hates surgery and space flying and roistering around, Cal, you do all right." "Look, Tony, I want to see Tink." "I know. You haven't seen her since you brought her back six weeks ago, have you." "No, and I intend to rectify that error right now." "You could have been here three weeks ago." "No, I couldn't, I've been in Vilanortis, working with the fellows on Murdoch's Hoard. After all, I'm not ... not--" "Not twins? No, thank the Lord! O.K., Cal. Go on in." Cal left in a hurry, and Tony said to the receiving clerk: "He's changed." "Cal found Tinker in a wheelchair in the conservatory. Tink!" he roared. "Cal!" she answered. Then she arose from the wheelchair and came toward him with a light, eager step. Cal was a gentleman--he met her halfway. THE END.