"If the reserves were called in to the Cobbler's Guild, it would be almost half the manpower of the planet...." Blahrog paused, doing mental arithmetic. "Four and a half million pairs, more or less." He sounded as though he were surprised. "That ought to do it," Andy said gleefully. "But where will we find that many pairs of feet?" Blahrog asked. "There are eight million times that many pairs of feet in the Federation," Andy said. "Leave the advertising to Planetary Promotions." "It seems sort of poetic," Miss Featherpenny romanced. "Leprechauns are supposed to be cobblers." Blahrog snorted. Andy turned and addressed her from the full distance between a promoter third class and a girl from the steno pool. "Miss Featherpenny, I will ask for your opinion when I want it." Miss Featherpenny answered from her side of the gulf. "Yes, sir." Andy had always despised rank-pullers. He turned to Blahrog "I'll have to send the dope back to the Home Office so they can put it through the computer and send me the ad-intensity index." Blahrog looked a polite enquiry. "That will tell us how effective the ad campaign will have to be to make a go of this. What's the fastest way to send a message to Earth?" "Radiogram the satellite station," Blahrog answered. "They'll relay it to the next ship within range, and the ship will relay it to the next planet it nears with the radiogram facilities to send it to Earth." "How long will it take to get an answer?" Andy asked. "About twelve days." * * * * * They didn't stare at the sky while they waited for the answer. Blahrog called the members of the Cobbler's Guild together, and delivered a series of lectures on their importance to the future of Felix II. Foreseeing a return to political and economic power, the reserve members dusted off their lasts and aprons and got back into practice. For the first time in nearly thirty seasons, the applications for apprenticeship were too numerous to handle. New life showed on their faces. The Master Cobblers (including the Everking and Blahrog) worked around the clock, fabricating plastic lasts. Miss Featherpenny and Hrom dug pictures and descriptions of the various types of Galactic feet that habitually or occasionally wore shoes out of old periodicals, located by members of the newly-organized ladies' auxiliary. Felix II was humming, if not absolutely singing, with industry and good humor. Some of it rubbed off on Andy. He relented toward Miss Featherpenny to the extent of presenting her with a pair of Felician shoes, fabricated by the Everking. They were of the sensible walking variety, and not Miss Featherpenny's style. Nevertheless, she was extremely pleased with the gift. Like all Felician shoes, they fit her perfectly.