He moved, and Miss Featherpenny moved. Between them, they unsettled a large woman eating an orange. When the juice had been mopped up and the woman apologized to, Miss Featherpenny squeezed in beside Andy. "Is that the information on the case?" She indicated the dope sheet crumpled under Andy's arm. "Yes." Andy tried to pull it out. "Were you issued one?" He moved his elbow and tried again. The orange woman glared at him. Miss Featherpenny shook her head. "Miss Ellis told me you'd tell me everything I needed to know." Andy felt obscurely flattered. "It doesn't look too promising," he admitted. Miss Featherpenny glanced at the dope sheet and found a ray of hope. "The Federation only requires that the Felician exports are nearly as valuable as their imports," she pointed out. "'Nearly' is a nice vague, maneuverable word." "But," said Andy, "if the Felicians can't think of anything to sell, how do they expect me to?" "Maybe they're too isolated to know what's in demand," Miss Featherpenny comforted him. "It says they won't authorize ships to land on the planet except by invitation." "It might be isolation, I suppose," Andy doubted. He felt an urge to confide in Miss Featherpenny. She did, after all, look as if there might be something besides fluff in her head. "Look," he said. "This is my first assignment, on my fourth job, on my second career. I've got to make good. My father is beginning to get impatient." Miss Featherpenny's eyes grew softer. "Fathers are usually more patient than their children think," she encouraged. "But," Andy added morosely, "I have a brother, a salesman with Universal Products. He keeps getting promoted, and I keep getting fired. Dad must be conscious of the contrast." "Maybe," Miss Featherpenny suggested, "your brother's been lucky. You know, being assigned jobs that were easier than they sound." Andy glanced at her to see if he was being humored. He decided he was not, or not much. "I've tried to believe that," he admitted. "Unfortunately, Lloyd keeps proving me wrong. He got his last promotion for selling fancy food products to the Mahridgians." Miss Featherpenny had obviously never even heard of Mahridge. "They have a strong taboo against eating," Andy explained. "They swallow concentrates to keep alive, but it's still not quite decent. On Mahridge, it's the dining room, not the bathroom, that has a door with a lock on it for privacy. "Is he married?" asked Miss Featherpenny, who didn't intend to be a steno all her life. "I mean," she added quickly, "his wife would get anxious about his selling something like that, that could get him put in prison, or killed. How did he do it?" There was a certain coolness in Andy's voice. "He took a lead from the dope peddlers. He converted the adolescent Mahridgians first. It's all right to eat on Mahridge now." Miss Featherpenny diplomatized. "I don't think that's ethical. Convincing people to do what they think is wrong."