e
always mowed. Inside, everything was as tidy as a pin. Mud was never
tracked in. Wilma no longer approved of Messy Row as the name of any
planet on which she lived.

Marcus had to have help. Someone who lived on Earth would know the
proper approach better than he. He fished out the card Mary Ellen had
given him and the longer he looked the more certain he was that he had
found the person. It was not Mary Ellen. It was her sister.

Mary Ellen and Chloe--no last names given. Apparently this was custom,
the way unmarried girls informed the world that they were looking for
mates. In addition to their names was the address at which they both
lived.

There was also the occupation of each. Mary Ellen was a junior
attendant, whatever that was. But Chloe was far more important. She was
an astrographer, a senior supervisor astrographer.

Marcus ate rapidly, a definite plan materializing with each bite. Chloe
was the key. With her aid, he should be able to change Messy Row. He
smiled reflectively. With what he had to offer she would certainly
consent to help him--even if it was illegal.

* * * * *

Mary Ellen was not at home, but Chloe was and she welcomed them. Marcus
truthfully explained how they'd met her sister. Chloe commented
unfavorably on the marriage gangs and, though Marcus agreed, he received
the remarks in silence. It was not for him to change the mores of Earth.
Society had to work with what there was.

Chloe was small and dark in contrast to the larger blonde Mary Ellen.
She was older, too. Once she must have been quite pretty, but instead of
easing graciously into the poise of maturity she had been forced into
the early thirties without a husband. The struggle showed.

She was cordial when they came in and even more cordial when he finished
outlining his plan. "Yes, something can be done," she said quietly. "I
will set up the organization and ship them out in groups of ten. I have
a vacation in a few months and Mary Ellen and I will come then." She
glanced at him anxiously. "That is, if you think I'm needed."

"You are," he assured her. "We need wives, mothers, skilled technicians.
I can't think of anyone who will fit the description better."

"Then you'll see me again," she said. "And not merely for the reasons
you think. You see, I have a high-salaried job and could have been
married before this. But it didn't seem right. I want to feel I'm of
some use to a civilization