he wind
retreated, a little.

"Is it--is it often like that?"

Saari MacGregor looked at her. Max Cramer turned and looked at her, and
so did the others in the car. For a long moment no one said anything.
And then Saari said, "Why, this is _summer_, Trina."

"Summer?" She thought of the cereal grasses, rippling in the warm day.
They'd be whipping in the wind now, of course. The wind that was so much
stronger than any the world's machines ever made.

"You ought to be here in winter," Saari was saying. "It really blows
then. And there are the rainstorms, and snow...."

"Snow?" Trina said blankly.

"Certainly. A couple of feet of it, usually." Saari stopped talking and
looked at Trina, and surprise crept even farther into her face. "You
mean you don't have snow on your world?"

"Why, yes, we have snow. We have everything Earth had." But snow two
feet deep ... Trina shivered, thinking of winter on the world, and the
soft dusting of white on winter mornings, the beautiful powdery flakes
cool in the sunlight.

"They have about a sixteenth of an inch of it," Max said. "And even
that's more than some of the worlds have. It hardly ever even rains in
New California."

Saari turned away finally, and the others did too. The car started, the
sound of its motors shutting out the wind a little, and then they were
moving. Yet it was even more frightening, rushing over the roads in the
darkness, with the houses flashing past and the trees thrashing in the
wind and the people briefly seen and then left behind in the night.

The ship was ahead. The ship. Now even it seemed a safe, familiar place.

"This isn't like Earth after all," Trina said bitterly. "And it seemed
so beautiful at first."

Then she saw that Saari MacGregor was looking at her again, but this
time more in pity than in surprise.

"Not like Earth, Trina? You're wrong. We have a better climate than
Earth's. We never have blizzards, nor hurricanes, and it's never too
cold nor too hot, really."

"How can you say that?" Trina cried. "We've kept _our_ world like Earth.
Oh, maybe we've shortened winter a little, but still...."

Saari's voice was sad and gentle, as if she were explaining something to
a bewildered child. "My mother's ancestors came here only a few years
out from Earth," she said. "And do you know what they called this
planet? A paradise. A garden world."

"That's why they named it Eden," Max Cramer said.

Then they were at the ship, out of the