"I am Wheeler of Rear-Sobucks and Company," he disclosed, standing to one side so that two men working with antigrav grapples could wrestle a large crate onto the veranda. "I have an apology and an automatic bather for Potentate McWorther."
But Titus turned his back on the man, abruptly facing his wife. "Good God! What day is it?"
She frowned in puzzlement. "Why, Wednesday."
There was a sharp explosion nearby as another article of cargo came hurtling down from space.
"And it's almost noon!"
She nodded, still perplexed.
"Get into the spaceabout, Love—quick!"
She hesitated and he gave her a shove.
But he paused and faced the others. "You got just about fifteen minutes to climb into your contraptions and clear out—all of you! Because by then we'll be fresh out of gravity!"
And they'd be lucky if they had that much time, he realized as he followed Edna into the small craft. He had known he would have to face the inevitable crisis on Wednesday. But all along he had been off one day in his calculations, such that he had been sure today was only Tuesday.