"Nevertheless," continued Lancelot Biggs, "the Iapetan miners will have plenty of food. But to borrow an expression from a wise old book, 'Man does not live by bread alone.' There is such a thing, you know, as maintaining public morale, and one of the best ways of doing this is to offer people some small but tender fragment of beauty. Something to delight the eye with its color, soften the air with its fragrance. In short--flowers. "You know, it's like some old Indian philosopher said way back in the 20th Century: If a man has but two coins in his pocket, he should take one of them and buy 'hyacinths wherewith to feed the soul'." "Nevertheless--" I interrupted doggedly. "So," pursued Biggs, "our company is being very clever in hurrying this shipment of flower seeds to Iapetus. Not only because the people will love them, buy them, plant them eagerly for the pure, sensual pleasure of watching something grow--but also because there is big money in it. "Didn't you ever hear of the famous Holland Tulip Market where fabulous prices were paid for unusual buds?[1] Who knows but that something like that might happen on Iapetus, and our company might make millions!" [Footnote 1: "Every reader possibly knows of the 'Tulip Mania' in Holland (1634 to about 1638 A.D.) when speculation in bulbs became as wild as speculation has been at other times on the Stock Market. A record price of 13,000 florins (equal to about 260,000 florins today, or $104,000 American money) is reported to have been paid during the mania for one bulb of the variety _Semper Augustus_." Gager: _The Plant World_.--ED.] "Out of which," I conceded grudgingly, "we might even collect a half day's pay as bonus. Well, maybe you've got something there, Lance. Maybe it _is_ a good idea. But when I signed up for space service I never thought I'd end up as flower boy to a cosmic wedding." * * * * * This last comment elicited an unexpected result. At the word "wedding," Biggs stiffened like the feature attraction at a post-mortem. A frenzied look glazed his eyes. "Oh!" he gulped. "Wedding! Sparks, thanks a million. I had almost forgotten." "Forgotten what?" I demanded. "Why, my anniversary." "Anniversary! Are you off your beam? Why, you and Diane have only been married--" "Two months," nodded Lancelot Biggs. "Day after tomorrow is our third anniversary." He swallowed sort of shyly, which is hard to do when your emotion exhibits itself in the frenzied leaping of a laryngial elevator. "Diane and I--well, we celebrate our wedding every month on the anniversary of the day we were married." "And no quicker road to the poor-house," I sniffed, "was ever macadamized. So what are you going to do by way of celebration, Romeo? Take her to the observation deck and treat her to a view of the starry firmament revolving in its courses? That's about all the excitement there is available on this crate."