* * * * * Elwood picked up an odd-looking instrument from the work-bench against which he had been leaning. As he fingered it idly he enjoyed his daughter's stunned acceptance of his accomplishment, realising more than ever what an important contribution he had made to man's eventual conquest of the stars. That conquest would come in good time. Even now enough atomic potential had been stored in the rocket to carry it to Alpha Centauri--and back. The blast mechanism had to have an overload to function at all. But only a tiny fraction of the potential would be needed to make the moon flight an accomplished fact. The rocket wouldn't be traveling at anything like the speed of light. But just as soon as a few more complicated technical details had been worked out.... Elwood felt suddenly very tired. His back ached with stiffness and his eyelids throbbed. Fortunately he knew the reason for his weariness and refused to become alarmed. He had simply been driving himself too hard. But with the rocket so near completion he couldn't afford to let even a draft of cold wind blow upon him and increase his chances of becoming really ill. "If it's all right with you, kiddies," he said, "I'm going upstairs to bed. I'm practically out on my feet." "Aw, Pop, it isn't six o'clock yet!" Melvin protested. Instantly Mary Anne came to his rescue. "Daddy, you're not getting enough rest!" she said, her eyes darting to the rocket and then to her brother in fierce reproach. "I ought to turn in early when I can," Elwood said. "If your mother wasn't at Aunt Martha's I'd have to sit up half the night convincing her I've got enough practical sense left to shave and bathe myself and take in the mail." "Goodnight, daddy!" Mary Anne said. "Goodnight, kids. Thanks for being patient and giving me a break." "Pop, can I stay down here and look it over?" "Sure, Melvin, stay as long as you like. I don't mind your puttering around a bit with the tools so long as you don't touch the rocket." Elwood's face grew suddenly strained. "Promise me you won't." "He won't!" Mary Anne promised. She waited for her father's footsteps to echo hollowly on the floor above before she turned her ire full upon Melvin. "If I was a boy I'd be more considerate of daddy than you are!" she exclaimed, accusingly. "You don't care how tired he gets." "You're not a boy," Melvin retorted. "You never could be. What's the sense in fooling yourself?" "You just repeat everything he tells you," Mary Anne flared. "You're not so smart!" "I'm smart enough to know that rocket could be sent further than the moon--right now." Mary Anne gasped. "You're crazy. Daddy knows what he's doing." "Sure he does. If he sent it as far as it could go it would disappear in space. He couldn't prove anything and he'd be in real trouble. They'd say he got rid of it because it wouldn't work and kept the forty thousand dollars for himself."