“Nay, you are strangers in a strange world. It is our duty to make you all feel at home here. I can see you were of high estate in your own country—you must be of high estate here also. Know you, we are wise in this land. Our Rorka is first, and his spouse, the Rorkata, ranks second. Their offspring and nearest blood relations come next; then come the Jkaks and Moritous; our Djohs and Ab-Djohs; the Wazi, Captains of our air birds, our learned men and students, down to the serving men and maids, and the builders of our homes and our ships. From highest to lowest, all share ‘pro rata’ in the good things of the world. We are all satisfied—the laws of our land have fixed the rates that are to be paid to each household from the common fund. I assure you, there will be enough and to spare for you.” Masters spoke for the first time. “I am Sir John’s servant,” he began. “No,” corrected Sir John. “Masters is my faithful friend and adviser.” “Then you would like him to dwell in the same house with you?” “Please,” said Sir John, “and my nephew Alan, also.” “And you, no doubt,” went on the Jkak turning to Desmond, “you would like to have apartments to yourselves.” “Thank you,” answered Mavis for her husband and herself. “Good. I will summon Waz-Y-Kjesta. There are several new houses near at hand. Go with him—you can take your choice,” and with a wave of the hand and a smile, they realized that they were dismissed from the presence of the Jkak and his charming wife. Waz-Y-Kjesta was hovering near and came toward them. He had received his full instructions beforehand. “Come,” said he. “The houses that are unoccupied are quite close—come and take your choice.” “How is it,” asked Alan, “that we can walk so easily now. When we first came out on to the open deck of the Argenta, our limbs were as heavy as lead. We could not walk an inch, and we were so top-heavy we could hardly stand.” “That is easy to explain,” replied the Waz. “Eight Kymos have risen since you arrived here.” “Kymos?” asked Mavis. The Keemarnian names puzzled her. “Sun?” suggested Alan. “Ah, you call it—sun. Yes, since you first came, the sun has sunk seven times. You have slept—breathed in our air. While you were sleeping, our men of science administered medicinal gases through your nostrils. These gases lightened you—took from you the heaviness of your earth. You will find no difficulty now,” and he led the way through the garden to the most glorious street it was possible to imagine. “Now you will see our country,” he continued, “and compare it with your own. You are not too tired?” he asked Mavis. “No, of course not. I feel too excited. I want to see your beautiful city—your beautiful country. May I first see that my baby is all right?”