If the Terran noticed a change in the Professor’s glance he gave no sign, but instead smiled apologetically.
“Ice cream first.”
The Terran’s residence, when seen from close up, was a utilitarian yet not unbeautiful structure. It appeared to be made mostly from native woods with a hint of metal only here and there. A small quadruped was lying on its entrance step. It raised its head to gaze mournfully at the arrivals, with wise eyes, before returning it to its former position on its forepaws. Had the Professor known anything about the history of Terran canines, this quiet greeting would have been interesting indeed.
The building proved to admit more light and air than had seemed probable from .the outside. Furniture appeared to be mostly of the handmade variety, with here and there an occasional hint of something machine-turned. Bright colors predominated but did not clash, not that the Terran color scheme meant anything to the visitors anyway. At least the place was big enough to hold all.
The Jones’s mate was a sprightly little dark woman
13
WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . ..
of indeterminate age, much like her husband. A single male sibling by the name of Flip stared solemnly from a window seat at the grouping of guests assembled in his parents’ den. He had a twig, or stick, which he would sometimes tap on the floor.
“Now, Alex . . .” said the woman, fussing with a large wooden ice-cream maker, “you didn’t tell me we were having visitors. How am I supposed to prepare for these things if you don’t tell me about them in advance?”