"Oh, sure. I mention that in here some place."
"Just so there's no mistake!" Orville suddenly felt very drowsy. He curled up facing the wall and went to sleep.
When he awoke, he saw Harold leaning against the wall, his glasses sliding down, his head nodding. Orville reached over and jerked his foot.
"There now," he said. "Old neighbor. You go to sleep. I'll watch her for a while."
Orville felt fine now. While Harold slept, he opened a jar of Rosie's peaches, drank off the juice and dug in with the spoon. It wasn't really so bad, not shaving or taking a bath, roughing it out here in space!
He dug into his coat pocket, found a cigar, but it was crushed. Oh, well. He flung it into the trash. He folded his arms, leaned back his head.
They sat at the head of a banquet table, he and Harold. The mayor was there, and the college president, and way down the table was the boss, old Haverstrom, real proud to be in such important company. And the governor was there and—by gosh! Sitting right next to Orville was the President of the United States!
Someone was making a speech—they were awarding some kind of prize for first man and there was applause and they were waiting for Orville to get up. He stood, waited for applause to die down.
"Thank you, friends ... all of you ... being no speechmaker ... but I do want to say right here and now ... no more idea of receiving this great honor tonight than of—flying to the Moon!"