As he slipped the carrying strap over his head and handed the instrument over, the tramp pursed his lips. "Coulda _sworn_ that you had a little patch of white up there. Coulda sworn. Sorry about the name, prof; we never seem to be able to get together on those things." The professor grunted and started for the darkroom with the camera. Halfway there, he stopped and almost cringed as a huge female form stepped through the far doorway. "Aloysius!" came a voice that approximated a corkscrew to the ear. "Aloysius! I told you yesterday that if that tramp wasn't out of my house in twenty-four hours, experiment or not, you'd hear from me. Aloysius! You have exactly thirty-seven minutes!" "Y-yes, dear," Professor Guggles whispered at her broad retreating back. "We-we're almost finished." "Who's that?" McCarthy demanded the moment she had left. "My wife, of course. You must remember her--she made your breakfast when you arrived." "Didn't make my breakfast. Made my own breakfast. And you said you weren't married!" "Now you're being silly, Mr. Gallagher. I've been married for twenty-five years and I know how futile it is to deny it. I couldn't have said any such thing." "Name's not Gallagher--it's McCarthy, Gooseneck McCarthy," the tramp told him querulously. "What's happened here? You can't even remember my last name now, let alone my first, you change your own name, you shave your head, you get married in a hurry and--and you try 'n tell me that I let some female woman cook my breakfast when I can rassle up a better-tastin', better-eatin'--" "Hold it!" The little man had approached and was plucking at his sleeve eagerly. "Hold it, Mr. Gallagher or Gooseneck or whatever your name is. Suppose you tell me exactly what you consider this place to have been like before you left." Gooseneck told him. "And that thingumajig was layin' _on_ that whatchamacallit instead of under it," he finished lamely. The professor thought. "And all you did--when you went back into the past--was to move a rock?" "That's all. One hell of a big centipede jumped out, but I didn't touch it. Just moved the rock and headed back like you said." "Yes, of course. H'mmm. That may have been it. The centipede jumping out of the rock may have altered subsequent events sufficiently to make me a married man instead of a blissful single one, to have changed my name from Ruddle to Guggles. Or the rock itself. Such an intrinsically simple act as moving the rock must have had much larger consequences than I had imagined. Just think, if that rock had not been moved, I might not be married! Gallagher--" "McCarthy," the tramp corrected resignedly. "Whatever you call yourself--listen to me. You're going back in the time machine and shift that rock back to its original position. Once that's done--" "If I go back again, I get another hundred." "How can you talk of money at a time like this?" "What's the difference between this and any other time?"