Behind them, Joan walked with Mike. Her face was still earnest and intense, and Tom thought that she was probably expounding some theory of the art. He felt sorry for Mike, but, then, Mike was a chap that invited that sort of thing. He seemed to be chronically unable to express a disinterest in anything and, as a consequence, was the one on which most of them poured out their troubles and their ideas. But, then, perhaps he was interested. Maybe he was interested in the people even when he was not in the ideas. Finally, there came Esther and Pete. Esther was the feminine organizer of the clan. She it was that planned the details of what should happen when, and who should do what. The others were just as glad to leave these matters to her. She had a passion for fairness that made them trust her distribution of the chores. And she had the will to get things organized, the wish to see things settled long in advance. Tom saw she was talking earnestly to Pete; he wondered what project she was working on. Pete was the philosopher of the clan. With a somewhat pixyish mind, he was afraid of no thoughts, and took nothing at all for granted. As to whether he was a really deep thinker, or just one who liked to play with logic and semantics, Tom did not know. Perhaps it was too soon to tell. Philosophers are not made at the age of twenty-five, but only when they have lived their lives, and are ready to profit fully by its experience. At the moment, Tom saw, he was looking rather bored by Esther, and seemed to welcome the onrushing crowd of kids. Tom looked at them all. Whom should he talk to? he wondered. Or should he talk to any of them? There was no longer in him the same drive about the problem. In some way he did not yet understand, his talks with Sandy and with Betsy had boiled off some of the urgency. And yet, the problem still was urgent. Ricky still meant to bring it up at caucus, and Tom still had to know what his own response would be. It was with something of a shock that he realized that he did not know--but the fact was that he did not. And he did not even know why he was uncertain. The problem had seemed so clear when Ricky had first mentioned it; but now, now it was not clear at all. Tom waited until they all had washed off the dust of the road and combed their hair and changed their dresses. In the meantime, he mixed them cocktails ready for their return. And when they had once more assembled, he let them trade around the items of the day's news. It was not until he saw Pete wander off to gaze out the window at the gathering sunset that he made any move. When he saw that Pete was alone, he went over to stand beside him. "What do you know, Pete," he said. Pete turned to face him. "Hi, Tom. You look puzzled tonight. Not your usual fatherly self. What's up?" Tom shrugged. "It's this Marcia business that's bothering me," he said. "Ricky's going to caucus it tonight, and I been trying to figure it out."