He tried to write out a check for Mr. Perrin, but he brushed it off. «I don't need any reward; your boy found him. You can do me just one favor – »

«Yes?» Dad was all honey.

«Stay off the Moon. You don't belong here; you're not the pioneer type.»

Dad took it. «I've already promised my wife that,» he said without batting an eye. «You needn't worry.»

I followed Mr. Perrin as he left and said to him privately, «Mr. Perrin – I just wanted to tell you that I'll be back, if you don't mind.»

He shook hands with me and said, «I know you will, Shorty.»

«It's Great to Be Back!»

«Hurry up, Allan!» Home – back to Earth again! Her heart was pounding.

«Just a second.» She fidgeted while her husband checked over a bare apartment. Earth-Moon freight rates made it silly to ship their belongings; except for the bag he carried, they had converted everything to cash. Satisfied, he joined her at the lift; they went on up to the administration level and there to a door marked:

Miss Stone accepted their apartment keys grimly. «Mr. and Mrs. MacRae. So you're actually leaving us?»

Josephine bristled. «Think we'd change our minds?»

The manager shrugged. «No. I knew nearly three years ago that you would go back – from your complaints.»

«From my comp – Miss Stone, I've been as patient about the incredible inconveniences of this, this pressurized rabbit warren as anyone. I don't blame you personally, but – »

«Take it easy, Jo!» her husband cautioned her. Josephine flushed. «Sorry, Miss Stone.»

«Never mind. We just see things differently. I was here when Luna City was three air-sealed Quonset huts connected by tunnels you crawled through, on your knees.» She stuck out a square hand. «I hope you enjoy being groundhogs again, I honestly do. Hot jets, good luck, and a safe landing.»

Back in the lift, Josephine sputtered. « 'Groundhogs' indeed! Just because we prefer our native planet, where a person can draw a breath of fresh air – »

«You use the term,» Allan pointed out.

«But I use it about people who've never been off Terra.»

«We've both said more than once that we wished we had had sense enough never to have left Earth. We're groundhogs at heart, Jo.»

«Yes, but – Oh, Allan, you're being obnoxious. This is the happiest day of my life. Aren't you glad to be going home? Aren't you?»

«Of course I am. It'll be great to be back. Horseback riding. Skiing.»

«And opera. Real, live grand opera. Allan, we've simply got to have a week or two in Manhattan before we go to the country.»

«I thought you wanted to feel rain on your face.»

«I want that, too. I want it all at once and I can't wait. Oh, darling, it's like getting out of jail.» She clung to him.

He unwound her as the lift stopped. «Don't blubber.»

«Allan, you're a beast,» she said dreamily. «I'm so happy.»

They stopped again, in bankers' row. The clerk in the National City Bank office had their transfer of account ready. «Going home, eh? Just sign there, and your print. I envy you. Hunting, fishing.»

«Surf bathing is more my style. And sailing.»

«I,» said Jo, «simply want to see green trees and blue sky.»

The clerk nodded. «I know what you mean. It's long ago and far away. Well, have fun. Are you taking three months or six?»

«We're not coming back,» Allan stated flatly. «Three years of living like a fish in an aquarium is enough.»

«So?» The clerk shoved the papers toward him and added without expression, «Well – hot jets.»

«Thanks.» They went on up to the subsurface level and took the crosstown slidewalk out to the rocket port. The slidewalk tunnel broke the surface at one point, becoming a pressurized shed; a view window on the west looked out on the surface of the Moon – and, beyond the hills, the Earth.

The sight of it, great and green and bountiful, against the black lunar sky and harsh, unwinking stars, brought quick tears to Jo's eyes. Home – that lovely planet was hers! Allan looked at it more casually, noting the Greenwich. The sunrise line had just touched South America – must be about eight-twenty; better hurry.

They stepped off the slidewalk into the arms of some of their friends, waiting to see them off. «Hey – where have you lugs been? The Gremlin blasts off in seven minutes.»

«But we aren't going in it,» MacRae answered. «No, siree.»

«What? Not going? Did you change your minds?»

Josephine laughed. «Pay no attention to him, Jack. We're going in the express instead; we swapped reservations. So we've got twenty minutes yet.»

«Well! A couple of rich tourists, eh?»

«Oh, the extra fare isn't so much and I didn't want to make two changes and spend a week in space when we could be home in two days.» She rubbed her bare middle significantly.

«She can't take free flight, Jack,» her husband explained. «Well, neither can I – I was sick the whole trip out. Still, I don't think you'll be sick, Jo; you're used to Moon weight now.»

«Maybe,» she agreed, «but there is a lot of difference between one-sixth gravity and no gravity.»

Jack Crail's wife cut in. «Josephine MacRae, are you going to risk your life in an atomic-powered ship?»

«Why not, darling? You work in an atomics laboratory.»

«Hummph! In the laboratory we take precautions. The Commerce Commission should never have licensed the expresses. I may be old-fashioned, but I'll go back the way I came, via Terminal and Supra-New York, in good old reliable fuel-rockets.»

«Don't try to scare her, Emma,» Crail objected. «They've worked the bugs out of those ships.»

«Not to my satisfaction. I – »

«Never mind,» Allan interrupted her. «The matter is settled, and we've still got to get over to the express launching site. Good-by, everybody! Thanks for the send-off. It's been grand knowing you. If you come back to God's country, look us up.»

«Good-by, kids!»

«Good-by, Jo – good-by, Allan,»

«Give my regards to Broadway!»

«So long – be sure to write.»

«Good-by.»

«Aloha – hot jets!»

They showed their tickets, entered the air lock, and climbed into the pressurized shuttle between Leyport proper and the express launching site. «Hang on, folks,» the shuttle operator called back over his shoulder; Jo and Allan hurriedly settled into the cushions. The lock opened; the tunnel ahead was airless. Five minutes later they were climbing out twenty miles away, beyond the hills that shielded the lid of Luna City from the radioactive splash of the express ships.

In the Sparrowhawk they shared a compartment with a missionary family. The Reverend Doctor Simmons felt obliged to explain why he was traveling in luxury. «It's for the child,» he told them, as his wife strapped the baby girl into a small acceleration couch rigged stretcher-fashion between her parents' couches. «Since she's never been in space, we daren't take a chance of her being sick for days on end.» They all strapped down at the warning siren. Jo felt her heart begin to pound. At last ... at long last!

The jets took hold, mashing them into the cushions. Jo had not known she could feel so heavy. This was worse, much worse, than the trip out. The baby cried as long as acceleration lasted, in wordless terror and discomfort.

After an interminable time they were suddenly weightless, as the ship went into free flight. When the terrible binding weight was free of her chest, Jo's heart felt as light as her body. Allan threw off his upper strap and sat up. «How do you feel, kid?»

«Oh, I feel fine!» Jo unstrapped and faced him. Then she hiccoughed. «That is, I think I do.»

Five minutes later she was not in doubt; she merely wished to die. Allan swam out of the compartment and located the ship's surgeon, who gave her an injection. Allan waited until she had succumbed to the drug, then left for the lounge to try his own cure for spacesickness – Mothersill's Seasick Remedy washed down with champagne. Presently he had to admit that these two sovereign remedies did not work for him – or perhaps he should not have mixed them.