"Which of you is the geneticist?" she demanded, and then to George, "You ... you must be ... you aren't dressed like a business man. Your suit is five years out of style." Abashed, George looked at himself. "What's wrong with it?" "You'd never understand and I haven't time to tell you. What I want to know is, who gave you the right to use my name in this silly Mother America contest. And you," she turned on the Dee Lish agent, "quit gawping at me. I'm not going to blast off. Who are you anyway?" "Miss Manson, please!" The little man was in front of her again. "If the reporters hear about this ..." "Oh shut up, Harry! All right, Doctor, what's your excuse?" George rallied and attacked. "I haven't any, Miss Manson. I didn't ask for your name. It was submitted to me as a possibility from the Dee Lish Company. You needn't worry, however. You are displaying adequate reasons for me to disqualify your entry right now." "Oh, an advertising stunt, is it? Harry, this is your idea ... you and that pap purveyor!" "But Gloria, think of the publicity ... the big parade with the man from Mars! Why your play would run for years!" "OK, I'll do it!" she said with a big smile and watched the ad-men's gloomy faces change to astonished delight. "There's just one little thing ... if I win!" She prodded Harry in the chest with a long stiff finger. "Yes, dear ... anything!" "_YOU_ have the baby!" The scowl came back to her face. "You utter idiots ... you misfired missiles! How in the Universe do you think I can play a romantic lead wearing a maternity dress?" George chuckled with delight at the thought and she turned on him. "What's so funny, Doctor? And what do you mean I'm disqualified from the contest? What's wrong with me?" "Not a thing, Miss Manson." He grinned happily at her. "But if you can stand having dinner with a man in an old-fashioned suit, I'll tell you why Mother America should be a contented cow instead of a tantalizing tigress." "Hm, this is one orbit I haven't travelled." She smiled and nodded her approval. "Set me a course, Navigator." They moved towards the door together. "Doctor! The program tonight ... have you forgotten?" George looked back and waved airily. "Don't worry. I'll be there. And we'll name the winner too!" * * * * * "Well now, Gloria, the dessert!" George was saying. "What'll it be, crepes suzette?" She smiled across the table. "Mm," she considered the menu carefully. "I think I'll stick to good old American apple pie and cheese." "A genuine American small town girl, with small town likes and dislikes! That's what you are underneath the glamour. Aren't you?" She laughed and raised her champagne glass. "And this is from the home-town vineyard too?" George leaned towards her, his face a little flushed with the wine. "Gloria, with your ability as an actress we could play the biggest practical joke in the history of colorvision. If only I dared!" "What's your idea, George?"