Wilfie bestirred himself, but he was handicapped by being on the other side of the counter with Carole and Feigelson. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded truculently. "Where did you come from, anyway?" "I came from Terra," said Winstead, pausing in filling out a form, "and I am more than ready to return. Combining a vacation with a business inspection trip occasionally becomes too exciting for a man of my years." "Inspection trip?" echoed Carole, freezing. "My hobby," said Winstead. "It keeps one in touch with the people who make the Agency go. This place, now, is the most slapdash, disorganized--Young man! You quit one of your jobs and take over this branch of the Interstellar Travel Agency. Don't argue--of course you can! What is your full name?" "_Me?_" gasped Wilfie. "Wilfred Evans." "All right, Evans, you're hired. You'll be able to get married and put a stop to all this nonsense of renting rooms while ships go out without our passengers." "What authority have you to--" began Carole indignantly. "The first test of a chief agent," said Winstead, scribbling upon a business card, "is to know when to tell an assistant manager to button her hatch." Wilfie accepted the card and glanced at both print and scribbling. "Button your hatch!" he ordered Carole over his shoulder. * * * * * She stood silent, her mouth open about the same distance as Feigelson's. Winstead looked about for a local clock, and snatched up one of the sheets strewn about the counter. A departure time listed upon it made him swear. He leaped to Carole's phone, switching on sound and screen with one swipe of his thumb. The blonde advanced a timid step, to read the card bearing Wilfie's appointment. "Robert Winstead Lewis, Terra ... President, Interstellar Travel Agency...." "Winstead" was shouting at a face on the phone screen. "You tell them who I am!" he demanded, holding up another of his cards to the scanner. "They'll manage to hold the ship three minutes until we reach her!" He switched off, mopping his forehead with the back of his hand, and started around the counter. Carole swayed weakly against Feigelson's supporting arm. "Now, then!" snapped Winstead. "This branch will be checked in the near future, Evans. I trust that you are the sort of man who can show a firm hand, should he return home to discover a star traveler in his bedroom." He smacked the flat of his own hand significantly upon the counter, staring at Carole between the eyes. Wilfie nodded thoughtfully. Robert Winstead Lewis flagged down an unwary porter driving by on an empty baggage truck. "Bring the bags, Feigelson!" he commanded, hopping aboard and seizing the controls. "As far as New Ceres, anyhow, we'll be going first-class!"