"Why _must_ we be primitive according to Terran ideas?" Luccar wanted to know. "Why must we be slaves even to fashions in backwardness?" "Hear, hear!" cried an anonymous voice. "And thank you, Skkiru," the former President continued, "for telling me they were suspicious. I doubt that Bbulas would have taken the trouble to inform me of so trivial a matter." "As high priest," Bbulas said stiffly, "I believe the matter, trivial or not, now falls within my province." "Shame!" cried an anonymous voice--or it might have been the same one. Bbulas turned forest-green and his antennae twitched. "After all, you yourself, Luccar, agreed to accept the role of elder statesman--" "Yam-stealer," Luccar corrected him bitterly, "which is not the same thing." "On Earth, it is. And," Bbulas went on quickly, "as for our assuming primitive Earth attitudes, where else are we going to get our attitudes from? We can't borrow any primitive attitudes from Nemeth, because they're too well known. And since there are no other planets we know of with intelligent life-forms that have social structures markedly different from the major Terran ones--except for some completely non-humanoid cultures, which, for physiological reasons, we are incapable of imitating--we have to rely upon records of primitive Terran sources for information. Besides, a certain familiarity with the traits manifested will make the culture more understandable to the Terrans, and, hence, more attractive to them psychologically." He stopped and straightened out his antennae. "In other words," Skkiru commented, emboldened by a certain aura of sympathy he felt emanating from Larhgan, at least, and probably from Luccar, too, "he doesn't have the imagination to think up any cultural traits for himself, so he has to steal them--and that's the easiest place to steal them from." "This is none of your business, Skkiru," Bbulas snapped. "You just beg." "It's the business of all of us, Bbulas," Luccar corrected softly. "Please to remember that, no matter what our alloted roles, we are all concerned equally in this." "Of course, of course, but please let me handle the situation in my own way, since I made the plans. And, Skkiru," the Dilettante added with strained grace, "you may have a warm cloak to wear as soon as we can get patches welded on." Then Bbulas took a deep breath and reverted to his old cheer-leader manner. "Now we must all get organized for the potlatch. We can give the Terrans those things the Ladies' Aid has been working on all year for the charity bazaar and, in exchange, perhaps they will give us more chocolate bars--" he glanced reproachfully at Skkiru--"and other food." "And perhaps some yams," Luccar suggested, "so that--God save us--I can steal them." "I'll definitely work on that," Bbulas promised. * * * * *