Joyce drew her chair farther back toward the wall, revulsion on her face. "Four! Get that nasty thing out of here!"
"You mean Fweep?" Four asked in astonishment.
"I mean that thing, whatever you call it." Joyce fluttered her hand impatiently. "Get it out!"
Four's eyes widened farther. "But Fweep's my friend."
"Nonsense!" Joyce said sharply. "Earthmen don't make friends with aliens. And that's nothing but a—a blob!"
"Fweep?" queried the raspberry lips. "Fweep?"
"If it's Four's friend," Reba said firmly, "it can stay. If you don't like to be around it, Grammy, you can always go to your own room."