Mac's eyes widened with surprise. "But you was never married," he said. "If you had kids then they was...."
"I didn't," Haywood put in quickly. "But it still works out. If you hadn't fathered your children and I hadn't—refrained, so to speak, this particular baby wouldn't be the million quadrillionth baby at all. It's curious the way it all works out."
"Sure it is!" Mac said triumphantly. "You see, it's like I said, a sort of millstone!"
"Mile stone," Haywood corrected absently. "I suppose you could regard the little chap as a sort of anniversary baby at that."
"You're darned right!" Mac nodded emphatically. "It's like we ought to do something about it—to kind of celebrate—like when a show house has fifty thousand customers and the fifty thousandth guy gets a free ticket or a smoke stand with a naked lady on top."
"But that's all in the line of advertising," Haywood said primly. "Crass commercialism."
"And what's wrong with advertising about babies?" Mac asked. "Babies are the best darned product in the world. It's about time something was done to stimulate trade, I guess."
"Well, I really doubt ..." Haywood began.
"You never was a father," Mac broke in elegantly. "It's a very broadening experience, even when your kids turn out to be brats."
"But don't you think," Haywood mused, "that it's rather been taken care of—the stimulation part of it, I mean?"