"Except for that, I suppose we are all in agreement," said Professor Larsen slowly. He drew on his pipe and it glowed brightly in the darkness. "The whole universe is a terrible place that barely tolerates living organisms. Almost without exception it is filled with great suns that are flaming, atomic furnaces, or dead cinders of planets to which a scrap of poisonous atmosphere may cling. Yes, it is indeed a great miracle that here in this corner of the universe conditions exist where living things have found a foothold. We may be glad that this is so, but it does not pay man to ever forget the fierceness of the home in which he lives. Earth is merely one room of that home, on the pleasant, sunny side of the house. But the whole universe is his home." "That's the thing I've been trying to say," Ken answered. "We can know this without being afraid." Maria's father nodded. "Yes. Fear is of no use to anyone. Awe, respect, admiration, wonder, humility--these are all necessary. But not fear." Maria turned from the group. "I'll bring the stamps, Ken," she said. "Won't you come in and have some cake?" Mrs. Larsen asked. "No, thanks. Mother fed us before we left my place. I'm afraid I couldn't eat any more." In a moment Maria was back. "Here are two whole sheets," she said. "I hope that will be enough." "Plenty. I'll see you get repaid tomorrow. Good night, everybody." "Good night, Ken." He moved down the walk toward his car and got in. When he pressed die starter button the engine groaned for a few seconds and came to a complete stop. He tried again; there was only a momentary, protesting grind. Ken got out and raised the hood and leaned over the engine in disgusted contemplation. There was no visible clue to the cause of the trouble. "Is your battery dead?" Professor Larsen called. "No. It's something else." Ken slammed the hood harder than he had intended. "I'll have to leave it here overnight and pick it up in the morning." "I can push you home with my car, or at least give you a ride." "No, please don't bother," Ken said. "I'll tow it home with Dad's car tomorrow. I'd just as soon walk, now. It's only a few blocks." "As you wish. Good night, Ken." "Good night, Professor." * * * * * Ken's clock radio woke him the next morning. He reached over to shut off the newscast it carried. There was only one item any commentator talked about now, the comet. Ken wondered how they could get away with a repetition of the same thing, over and over, but they seemed able to get an audience as long as they kept the proper tone of semi-hysteria in their voices.