Edgar's gene came from his grandmother via his father. The stories that gentle old lady told her orphaned grandson were the only outlet she had for her own powerful urge to turn back the times. And there had always been someone in the family who bemoaned the passing of the good old days, so strongly and constantly as to bore others to the verge of violence. Back even a few decades, no carrier of the nostalgia gene had any outlet but conversation and dreams. Edgar, though, was born to an age where science provided the knowledge and the equipment for him to find the practical solution. If Edgar's gene had carried any other trait, red hair, placidity or hemophilia, for instance, or if it had been recessive instead of dominant, this might have been a very different world. But the result was inevitable from the moment of Edgar's birth and the chain of events that proved it was as flawless as the steps of Gauss's theorem. He prospered after he and Marta were married. In three short years, he was made manager of Cloud's Emporium and just before that, Marta had surprised him with a daughter--surprised him because he was certain of a son. He wasn't inclined to be stubborn about it, however, and when the child put a pudgy little hand up to his cheek in a gesture that was probably caused by reflex or gas pains, he was completely won. When little Emma reached three, she was incurably addicted to bedtime stories, though only those concerning knights in armor and their ladies fair. Edgar grew to hate the names of Arthur and Galahad, but if he tried to tell a different story, his daughter had her own way of stopping him. Rearing back in his arms, she merely shrieked, "Ting Arfur, Ting Arfur!" until she turned blue, at which point Edgar always gave in. There was no doubt that little Emma had inherited the gene. * * * * * In 1906, old Cloud made Edgar a full partner in the Emporium and just eleven years later, little Emma wrote home from New York City with the shocking news that she was engaged to a doughboy from Brooklyn. Edgar and Marta rushed East to unmask the scoundrel, praying they would be in time to save Emma's honor. The scoundrel, when unmasked, was a mechanic with weak eyes and a passion for poetry, who was completely miserable in the infantry. His manners were acceptable and he had enough intelligence to let Edgar beat him thoroughly at cribbage, whereupon Edgar offered to finance the opening of a garage in Greencastle if the young folks would move back there when Jim's hitch in the Army was finished. "Emma is all we have," said Edgar in his classic style. "It's quite lonesome back home for Mother and me since she's been in the city. We--well, we should like to know that you and, later on, our grandchildren will be settling in a home near us." Emma blushed and Jim tried to dig the toe of his boot into a crack between the floorboards.