ike
this to y'opening. But all the other fellas wear blue jeans 'n leather
jackets. I mean, hell, I gotta conform more'n anybody. Y'know that,
Paul."

"And--" Paul sat bolt upright; this was the supreme outrage--"you've
changed yourself! You've gotten _younger_!"

"This is an age of yout'," Ivo mumbled. "An' I figured I was 'bout ready
for improvisation, like you said."

"Look, Ivo, if you really want to go on the stage----"

"Hell, I don' wanna be no actor!" Ivo protested, far too vehemently.
"Y'know damn' well I'm a--a spy, scoutin' 'round t'see if y'have any
secret defenses before I make m'report."

"I don't feel I'm giving away any government secrets," Paul said, "when
I tell you that the bastions of our defenses are not erected at the
Actors' Studio."

"Listen, pal, you lemme spy the way I wanna an' I'll letcha act the way
you wanna."

Paul was disturbed by this change in Ivo because, although he had
always tried to steer clear of social involvement, he could not
help feeling that the young alien had become in a measure his
responsibility--particularly now that he was a teen-ager. Paul would
even have worried about Ivo, if there hadn't been so many other things
to occupy his mind. First of all, the producers of _The Holiday Tree_
could not resist the pressure of an adoring public; although the
original star sulked, three months after the play had opened in New
York, Paul's name went up in lights next to hers, _over the title of the
play. He was a star._

That was good. But then there was Gregory. And that was bad. Gregory was
Paul's understudy--a handsome, sullen youth who had, on numerous
occasions, been heard to utter words to the effect of: "It's the part
that's so good, not him. If I had the chance to play Eric Everard just
once, they'd give Lambrequin back to the Indians."

Sometimes he had said the words in Paul's hearing; sometimes the remarks
had been lovingly passed on by fellow members of the cast who felt that
Paul ought to know.

* * * * *

"I don't like that Gregory," Paul told Ivo one Monday evening as they
were enjoying a quiet smoke together, for there was no performance that
night. "He used to be a juvenile delinquent, got sent to one of those
reform schools where they use acting as therapy and it turned out to be
his _metier_. But you never know when that kind'll hear the call of the
wild again."

"Aaaah, he's a good kid," Ivo said. "He just never ha