He was crouching in a corner of a garden and the leaves were drifting down from the walnut trees like a rain of saffron gold. He lifted one of the leaves and it slipped from his fingers, for his hands were chubby still and not too sure in grasping. But he tried again and he clutched it by the stem in one stubby fist and he saw that it was not just a blob of yellowness, but delicate, with many little veins. When he held it so that the Sun struck it, he imagined that he could almost see through it, the gold was spun so fine. He crouched with the leaf clutched tightly in his hand and for a moment there was a silence that held him motionless. Then he heard the frost-loosened leaves pattering all around him, pattering as they fell, talking in little whispers as they sailed down through the air and found themselves a bed with their golden fellows. In that moment he knew that he was one with the leaves and the whispers that they made, one with the gold and the autumn sunshine and the far blue mist upon the hill above the apple orchard. A foot crunched stone behind him and his eyes came open and the golden leaves were gone. "I am sorry if I disturbed you, Ancestor," said the man. "I had an appointment for this hour, but I would not have disturbed you if I had known." Young stared at him reproachfully without answering. "I am kin," the man told him. "I wouldn't doubt it," said Andrew Young. "The Galaxy is cluttered up with descendants of mine." The man was very humble. "Of course, you must resent us sometimes. But we are proud of you, sir. I might almost say that we revere you. No other family--" "I know," interrupted Andrew Young. "No other family has any fossil quite so old as I am." "Nor as wise," said the man. Andrew Young snorted. "Cut out that nonsense. Let's hear what you have to say and get it over with." * * * * * The technician was harassed and worried and very frankly puzzled. But he stayed respectful, for one always was respectful to an ancestor, whoever he might be. Today there were mighty few left who had been born into a mortal world. Not that Andrew Young looked old. He looked like all adults, a fine figure of a person in the early twenties. The technician shifted uneasily. "But, sir, this ... this...." "Teddy bear," said Young. "Yes, of course. An extinct terrestrial subspecies of animal?" "It's a toy," Young told him. "A very ancient toy. All children used to have them five thousand years ago. They took them to bed." * * * * * The technician shuddered. "A deplorable custom. Primitive." "Depends on the viewpoint," said Young. "I've slept with them many a time. There's a world of comfort in one, I can personally assure you." The technician saw that it was no use to argue. He might as well fabricate the thing and get it over with.