The second clerk went back to his desk, but presently the redhead went over to him, carrying my folder, and read aloud to him, but in such a low voice that I couldn't catch many of the words. What I did catch made me squirm.

When he had finished the redhead looked right at me and laughed. I stood up and said, "What's so funny?"

He said, "None of your business, Shorty. Sit down."

I walked over and said, "Let me see that."

The second clerk stuffed it into a drawer of his desk. The redhead said, "Mamma's boy wants to see it, Ned. Why don't you give it to him?"

"He doesn't really want to see it," the other one said.

"No, I guess not." The redhead laughed again and added, "And to think he wants to be a big bold colonist."

The other one looked at me while chewing a thumbnail and said, "I don't think that's so funny. They could take him along to cook."

This seemed to convulse the redhead. "Ill bet he looks cute in an apron."

A year earlier I would have poked him, even though he outweighed me and outreached me. That "Mamma's boy" remark made me forget all about wanting to go to Ganymede; I just wanted to wipe the silly smirk off his face.

But I didn't do anything. I don't know why; maybe it was from riding herd on that wild bunch of galoots, the Yucca Patrol—Mr. Kinski says that anybody who can't keep order without using his fists can't be a patrol leader under him.

Anyhow I just walked around the end of the desk and tried to open the drawer. It was locked. I looked at them; they were both grinning, but I wasn't. "I had an appointment for thirteen o'clock," I said. "Since the doctor isn't here, you can tell him I'll phone for another appointment." And I turned on my heel and left

I went home and told George about it. He just said he hoped I hadn't hurt my chances.

I never did get another appointment. You know what? They weren't clerks at all; they were psycho-metricians and there was a camera and a mike on me the whole time.