"Well, go peddle your papers to somebody else. You make me nervous." Feisel sniffed with injured pride. "That's gratitude for you. And just when I was going to put a little bee in your bonnet. I thought you'd like to know what happened to another guy just like you. You see, he got ideas, instead of digging to get his quota. He tried to lam out and you know where they found him? On the sidewalk below his twenty-third-floor window." As Feisel went out, Philon swore softly at his retreating back. But Feisel's little story sent a chill through him. That evening when he descended from his copter port and stepped into his living room he was surprised to hear young voices upstairs. Deciding to investigate he stepped on the escalator. At John's door he poked his head in. "Hello." A young blond-headed boy with bright clear eyes turned to look at him and a younger girl with short curly hair smiled back. John said, "Phil, this is Jimmie, and Jean, his sister. They don't have a home-school teleclass rig yet, so they're attending with me." "I see." Philon nodded to the children. "And how did you like your first day at school?" "Fine," Jean said, beaming until her eyes almost disappeared. "It was fun. The teacher was talking about the history of atomic energy and when I told her we had one of the first editions of the famous Smyth report on _Atomic Energy_ she was surprised." "A first edition of the _Smyth Report_? No wonder your teacher was surprised." Through Philon's mind ran the recollection that first editions of the Smyth Report brought as high as seventy thousand dollars. The children's excited chatter was suddenly interrupted by the front door chimes. Stepping to the wall televiewer, Philon pressed a button and said, "Who is it?" A pleasant-faced man with a startled look said, "Oh--sorry. This gadget on the door-casing surprised me. Ah--I think my children, Jimmie and Jean, are here. I'm Bill MacDonald." Behind him Philon heard Jean suppress a dismayed cry. "Gosh, Jimmie, it's late. Daddy's had to come for us!" Philon said, "And I'm Phil Miller, MacDonald. Come in. We'll be down in a moment." The MacDonald children and John headed for the stairs in a happy rush, ignoring the descending escalator, two steps at a time. Philon followed at a meditative pace, his thoughts trooping stealthily abreast. Seventy thousand dollars. Now, if he were to.... "Beautiful home you've got here, Miller." Philon came out of his daydreaming to see MacDonald coming into view around the corner of a living room ell. Philon took his extended hand. "Thanks. Glad you like it." Jean broke in breathlessly. "Oh, Daddy, you ought to see how they conduct classes--by school TV. You write on a glass square and it appears immediately at the teacher's roll-board. And when you--"