"Well!" she said. "Quite the gallant today, aren't we? Just be sure you're on time today, darling. Remember what Mr. Frewne had to say about promptness." Frewne. That overinflated windbag. The obesity who was about to become his boss. Without having worked a day in his life, Bozzy found he hated the idea of having a boss. "Let's think of something pleasant," he grunted, and thought of breakfast. He took his place at the table. Kate and the kids had already eaten, so Kate served, while the kids, attracted by his finery, stood off and watched him swallow a vitamin pill, a thyroid pill, and a Dexedrine pill. Solemnly, he opened the three eggs Kate brought. Each was guaranteed by her to have been irradiated for exactly two minutes and fifty-five seconds, and guaranteed by the grocer to have been enriched by feeding the hens three kinds of mold. His mouth was full of the third and last one when Sophie asked, "Why do you have to go to work, Daddy?" The reminder choked him. Gulping, he said, "To support us all, honey. My pension stops tomorrow." "Yes, but I read in a book where people used to go to work when they were young." He was tempted to say, "I _am_ young!" but thought better of it. "That was long ago, dear." "Were people different then?" "No, but society was. Our Senior Citizens used to be pensioned off, while younger people worked. But when science improved the Seniors' health, they got tired of sitting in corners on pensions and, besides, a lot of them died soon after they stopped working. When it got so that more than half of all voters were between forty and seventy years old, the Seniors voted their pensions to the young, to get educated and raise families on, and nobody's allowed to work till he's forty. Now do you see?" "Forty is awful old," said Sophie. * * * * * Howard had meanwhile taken his mother's hand. "_You're_ not going to work, are you, Mommy?" he asked. "Not for ten years, dear. I'll be here when you want me, so why don't you go play on the balcony? I've got to get Daddy off and give Ralph his bath." "I'll bathe him," Sophie volunteered. "You help, Howie. We can make like we're young." "Don't drop him," Kate warned. "Clean up the bathroom afterward," added Bozzy. "Yes, sir," said Howard, for the first time in his life. The children left, and Kate came close to pour Bozzy his cup of Daystart. He slipped an arm around her waist and squeezed convulsively. "Darling!" she said, stroking his bald spot. "You're positively trembling!" "Wouldn't you be, if you had to take over from somebody you like as well as I like Mr. Kojac? And for no good reason, except he's seventy-five and I'll soon be forty."