"Ugh!" gasped Joyce, brushing a Fweep out of her lap.
Grampa looked at the cabin and its occupants happily.
"I'd like to remind you," Fred said gravely, "that this multiplies our problem of what to do with Fweep over one hundred times."
"What problem?" asked Grampa. "The only problem we got is how we're gonna spend the cash. We're in business—the gravity business. We'll call it Gravity, Incorporated, and we can reclaim every little hunk of rock in the Solar System. Each one of those little fellows is worth a fortune! We'll give the satellites and the asteroids Earth-normal gravities and atmospheres and, by golly, we're rich!"
"Rich?" Joyce echoed. A smile slowly replaced the expression of distaste. She snapped her fingers. "Here, Fweepie," she said in her most enticing tone. "Here, little darlings! Come to dear Joyce!"
But they had all hopped to Four and were clustered around him like a raspberry bubble bath. Through them, his face peered, thin and happy.
Grampa looked at Reba. She was hugging Junior happily and smiling at Four. Grampa looked back at the boy.
"We'll have to be exclusive, though," Grampa said. "Considering the Fweeps' likes and dislikes, that is. We'll sell only to people with children."