ds meet. Accordingly, I do my own cooking and shop at
the self-service supermarket around the corner, where I have found
that prices are lower than in the service groceries and the food no
worse._

_However, the manager and a number of the customers have objected
to my shopping with my feet. They don't so much mind my taking
packages off the shelves with them, but they have been quite
vociferous on the subject of my pinching the fruit with my toes.
Unripe fruit, however, makes me ill. What shall I do?_

_Sincerely yours,_

_Grez B'Groot_

Tarb dictated an unhesitating reply:

Dear Professor B'Groot:

Why don't you explain to the manager of the store that Fizbians
have wings and feet rather than arms and hands?

I'm sure his attitude and the attitudes of his customers will
change when they learn that your pinching the fruit with your feet
is not mere pedagogical eccentricity, but the regular practice on
our planet. Point out to him that your feet are covered and,
therefore, more sanitary than the bare hands of his other
customers.

And always put on clean socks before you go shopping.

Helpfully yours,

Senbot Drosmig

Miss Snow raised pale eyebrows.

"Is something wrong?" Tarb asked anxiously. "Should I have put in that
bit about work, study, meditate? It seems inappropriate somehow."

"Oh, no, not that. It's just that your letter--well, violates Mr.
Zarnon's precept that, in Rome, one must do as the Romans do."

"But this isn't Rome," Tarb replied, bewildered. "It's New York."

"He didn't make the saying up," Miss Snow replied testily. "It's a
Terrestrial proverb."

"Oh," Tarb said.

She resented this creature's trying to tell her how to do her job. On
the other hand, Tarb was wise enough to realize that Miss Snow,
unpleasant though she might be, probably did know Stet well enough to be
able to predict his reactions.

So Tarb not only was reluctant to show Stet what she had already done,
but hesitated about answering another and even more urgent letter that
had just been brought in by special messenger. She tried to compromise
by submitting the letters to Drosmig--for, technically speaking, it was
he who was her immediate superior--but he merely groaned, "Tell 'em all
to drop dead," from his perch and refused to open his eyes.

In the end, Tarb had to take the letters to Stet's office.