ate
to the landing field, I saw them. At least a dozen of the Capella IV
octopoids were spread eagled, their tentacles out flat on the hot
cement of the runway. Their eye stared unblinking into the sun. Over
their spread of tentacles, like inverted hibiscus blossoms, they wore
their mother hubbards.

Behind them, over at the far edge of the field, was an exact duplicate
of our own space yacht. I wondered, rather hysterically perhaps, if
each of them on Capella IV now had one. I suspected the yacht was
simply there for show, that they hadn't needed it, not any more than
they needed the mother hubbards.

There was the hiss of another scooter, and I turned around to see Aunt
Mattie come to a stop. She stepped out and came over to me.

"Our social call on Capella IV is being returned," I said with a grin
and twinkle at her.

She took in the sight with only one blink.

"Very well," she answered. "I shall receive them, of course." Somebody
once said that the most snobbish thing about the whole tribe of Tombs
was that they'd never learned the meaning of the word, or had to. But
I did wonder what the servants would think when the creatures started
slithering into our drawing room.

There was a gasp and a low rumble of protesting voices from the
gardeners as Aunt Mattie opened the gate and walked through it. I
followed, of course. We walked up to the nearest monster and came to
stop at the edge of its skirt.

"I'm deeply honored," Aunt Mattie said with more cordiality than I'd
seen her use on a Secretary of State. "What can I do to make your
visit to Earth more comfortable?"

There was no reply, not even the flicker of a tentacle.

They were even more unusual than one might expect. Aunt Mattie
resolutely went to each of the dozen and gave the same greeting. She
felt her duty as a hostess required it, although I knew that a
greeting to one was a greeting to all. Not one of them responded. It
seemed rather ridiculous. They'd come all this way to see us, then
didn't bother to acknowledge that we were there.

We spent more than an hour waiting for some kind of a response. None
came. Aunt Mattie showed no sign of impatience, which I thought was
rather praiseworthy, all things considered. But finally we left. She
didn't show what she felt, perhaps felt only that one had to be
patient with the lack of manners in the lower orders.

I was more interested in another kind of feeling, the one we left
behind. What was it? I co