"You do, eh?" I asked. "What about going off the block? Visiting the Greeks and Star Men isn't my idea of staying on the block." "But you didn't say that, Daddy. You said not to cross the street. And I never did cross the street. Did we, Robert? Did we?" "We didn't cross a single street, Mr. Holmes," he insisted. "My God!" said Jim, and he went on trying to light a cigarette. "All right, all _right_! No more leaving this time, then," I warned. "Wait!" It was a cry of anguish from Jim. He broke the cigarette in sudden frustration and threw it in an ashtray. "The museum, Pete," he pleaded. "Think what it would mean. Pictures, specimens, voice recordings. And not only from historical places, but Star men, Pete. _Star men!_ Wouldn't it be all right for them to go places they know are safe? I wouldn't ask them to take risks, but--" "No, Jim," I said regretfully. "It's your museum, but this is my daughter." "Sure," he breathed. "I guess I'd feel the same way." I turned back to the youngsters. "Star, Robert," I said to them both, "I want your promise that you will not leave this time, until I let you. Now I couldn't punish you if you broke your promise, because I couldn't follow you. But I want your promise on your word of honor you won't leave this time." "We promise." They each held up a hand, as if swearing in court. "No more leaving this time." I let the kids go back outside into the yard. Jim and I looked at one another for a long while, breathing hard enough to have been running. "I'm sorry," I said at last. "I know," he answered. "So am I. But I don't blame you. I simply forgot, for a moment, how much a daughter could mean to a man." He was silent, and then added, with the humorous quirk back at the corner of his lips, "I can just see myself reporting this interview to the museum." "You don't intend to, do you?" I asked, alarmed. "And get myself canned or laughed at? I'm not that stupid." * * * * * _September 10th_ Am I actually getting it? I had a flash for an instant. I was concentrating on Caesar's triumphant march into Rome. For the briefest of instants, _there it was_! I was standing on the roadway, watching. But, most peculiar, it was still a picture; I was the only thing moving. And then, just as abruptly, I lost it. Was it only a hallucination? Something brought about by intense concentration and wishful thinking? Now let's see. You visualize a cube. Then you ESP it a half twist and seal the edges together--No, when it has the half twist there's only one surface. You seal that surface all around you-- Sometimes I think I have it. Sometimes I despair. If only I were a Bright instead of a Tween! * * * * * _October 23rd_