For a moment they stared at each other blankly. Mac twitched a wing.
"How about three hands?" he asked. "People are always saying how they wished they had three hands. It would make the kid a big help around the house."
"You've been away from Earth too long, Mac," Haywood said gently. "You know how unpleasant people can be to freaks."
"Oh, yeah," Mac said deflatedly. "I forgot."
"I don't think a physical difference is wise," Haywood went on. "I think something more from within would be better. Mortals are always wishing to be completely good and honest. At least they pray about it a good deal...."
Mac shook his head. "You can't be too good or too honest down there, Haywood. Sometimes it turns into a vice. Besides, people get suspicious and make things very hard for you. That's why the good ones never stay too long."
"You're quite right," Haywood conceded. "But we've got to think of something. I should be finishing up the dispatch right now. If I'm going to add anything to the orders I'd better do it."
"There must be something," Mac said anxiously. "What else do people always wish for?"
"Well ..." Haywood mused. Then, quite unexpectedly, he smiled one of his rare smiles. "I have it! How many times have you heard people wish that they had known at some previous point in their lives something that they have only managed to find out later?"
"Huh?" Mac said.