The remaining natives were perspicacious enough to see in the Terrestrials' coming not a threat but a last hope of revivifying their own moribund species. Accordingly, the Earthmen were encouraged to go ahead building on the sites originally selected, the only ban being on the type of construction materials used--and a perfectly reasonable one under the circumstances. James had built his cottage near the largest, handsomest tree in the area allotted to him; since there were no hostile life-forms, there was no need for a closely knit community. Everyone who had seen it agreed that his house was the most attractive one of all, for, although it was only a standard prefab, he had used taste and ingenuity to make it a little different from the other unimaginative homes. And now Phyllis, for whom he had performed all this labor of love, for whom he had waited five long months--the tedium of which had been broken only by the intellectual pleasure of teaching English to a sympathetic native neighbor--Phyllis seemed unappreciative. She had hardly looked at the inside of the cottage, when he had shown her through, and now was staring at the outside in a blank sort of way. The indoctrination courses had not, he reflected, reconciled her to the frontiersman's necessarily simple mode of living--which was ironic, considering that one of her original attractions for him had been her apparent suitability for the pioneer life. She was a big girl, radiantly healthy, even though a little green at the moment. * * * * * He just managed to keep his voice steady. "You don't like the house--is that it? "But I _do_ like it. Honestly I do." She touched his arm diffidently. "Everything would be perfect if only--" "If only what? Is it the curtains? I'm sorry if you don't like them. I brought them all the way from Earth in case the planet turned out to be habitable. I thought blue was your favorite color." "Oh, it is, it is! I'm mad about the curtains." Perhaps it wasn't the house that disappointed her; perhaps it was he himself who hadn't lived up to dim memory and ardent expectation. "If you want to know what _is_ bothering me--" she glanced up apprehensively, lowering her voice as she did--"it's that tree. It's stuck on you; I just know it is." He laughed. "Now where did you get a preposterous idea like that, Phyl? You've been on the planet exactly twenty-four hours and--" "--and I have, in my luggage, one hundred and thirty-two ethergrams talking about practically nothing but Magnolia this, Magnolia that. Oh, I had my suspicions even before I landed, James. The only thing I didn't suspect was that she was a _tree_!" "What are you talking about, honey? Magnolia and I--we're just friends." "Purely a platonic relationship, I assure you," the tree herself agreed. It would have been silly for her to pretend not to have overheard, since the two were still standing almost directly underneath her. "Purely platonic."