“Go on home, Roger,” said Mervin Armbruster, his boss, in a kindly tone.
Roger sat up suddenly.
“But, Mr. Armbruster,” he said, “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”
“Bosh,” said Armbruster. “You can’t stay here forever, none of us can. Go on home.”
Roger Phlutter went home. But when he’d taken a bath, he felt more restless than sleepy. It was only six-fifteen. He phoned Elsie.
“I’m awfully sorry, Roger, but I have another date. What’s going on, Roger? The stars, I mean.”
“Gosh, Elsie—they’re moving. Nobody knows.”
“But I thought all the stars moved,” Elsie protested. “The sun’s a star, isn’t it? Once you told me the sun was moving toward a point in Samson.”
“Hercules.”
“Hercules, then. Since you said all the stars were moving, what is everybody getting excited about?”