"Hi," Pete said, preoccupied.

Now, from the driveway of the apartment house across

the street, the two children that he had heard earlier emerged to stare at him.

"Are you the Bindman?" the girl asked. They had made out his insignia, the brilliantly-colored armband. "We never saw you before, Mr. Bindman," the girl said, awed. She was, Pete guessed, about eight years old.

He explained, "That's because I haven't been here to Marin County in years." Walking toward the two of them, he said, "What are your names?"

"I'm Kelly," the boy said. He appeared to be younger than the girl, Pete thought. Perhaps six at the most. Both of them were sweet-looking kids. He was glad to 'have them in his area. "And my sister's name is Jessica. And we have an older sister named Mary Anne who isn't here; she's in San Francisco, in school."

Three children in one family! Impressed, Pete said, "What's your last name?"

"McClain," the girl said. With pride, she said, "My mother and father are the only people in all California with three children."

He could believe that. "I'd like to meet them," he said.

The girl Jessica pointed. "We live there in that house. It's funny you don't know my father, since you're the Bindman. It was my father who organized the street-sweeper and maintenance machines; he talked to the vugs about it and they agreed to send them in."

"You're not afraid of the vugs, are you?" Pete said.

"No." Both children shook their heads.

"We did fight a war with them," he reminded the two children.

"But that was a long time ago," the girl said.

"True," Pete said. "Well, I approve of your attitude." He wished that he shared it.

From the house down the street a slender woman appeared, walking toward them. "Mom!" the girl Jessica called excitedly. "Look, here's the Bindman."