up the stairs with an almost
hypnotic softly jogging movement, he rejoined his wife in the study,
saying wonderingly, "Who'd have thought it, by George! Function taboos
as strict as our own!"

"I'm glad some of your professional visitors maintain 'em," his wife
said darkly.

"But this one's from Mars, darling, and to find out he's--well, similar
in an aspect of his life is as thrilling as the discovery that water is
burned hydrogen. When I think of the day not far distant when I'll put
his entries in the cross-cultural index ..."

He was still rhapsodizing when the Professor's Little Son raced in.

"Pop, the Martian's gone to the bathroom!"

"Hush, dear. Manners."

"Now it's perfectly natural, darling, that the boy should notice and be
excited. Yes, Son, the Martian's not so very different from us."

"Oh, certainly," the Professor's Wife said with a trace of bitterness.
"I don't imagine his turquoise complexion will cause any comment at all
when you bring him to a faculty reception. They'll just figure he's had
a hard night--and that he got that baby-elephant nose sniffing around
for assistant professorships."

"Really, darling! He probably thinks of our noses as disagreeably
amputated and paralyzed."

"Well, anyway, Pop, he's in the bathroom. I followed him when he
squiggled upstairs."

"Now, Son, you shouldn't have done that. He's on a strange planet and it
might make him nervous if he thought he was being spied on. We must show
him every courtesy. By George, I can't wait to discuss these things with
Ackerly-Ramsbottom! When I think of how much more this encounter has to
give the anthropologist than even the physicist or astronomer ..."

[Illustration]

He was still going strong on his second rhapsody when he was interrupted
by another high-speed entrance. It was the Professor's Coltish Daughter.

"Mom, Pop, the Martian's--"

"Hush, dear. We know."

The Professor's Coltish Daughter regained her adolescent poise, which
was considerable. "Well, he's still in there," she said. "I just tried
the door and it was locked."

"I'm glad it was!" the Professor said while his wife added, "Yes, you
can't be sure what--" and caught herself. "Really, dear, that was very
bad manners."

"I thought he'd come downstairs long ago," her daughter explained. "He's
been in there an awfully long time. It must have been a half hour ago
that I saw him gyre and gimbal upstairs in that real gone way he has,
with Nosy here