The cruiser's commander frowned on him.
"Exactly. Of course, Mr. Andrews, you cannot file a full claim to the property. That requires a full year's residence. And a man as important as yourself—"
Greg Malcolm started. He had said nothing up till now. He had been given an opportunity to say nothing. The captain had addressed himself solely to the one "important" man in their party, the man for whom, primarily, the search had been made, the man to whose "genius" was attributed the existence of the castaways.
Now he spoke up. He said, "But I am establishing residence, Captain Allengrove."
Allengrove permitted himself the luxury of a small smile.
"You, Malcolm? But really, my dear fellow, only a spaceman could undertake such a task. A secretary—"
Aunt Maud waddled forward belligerently. She said, "Secretary—pah! Fiddle-faddle, Captain! You don't know what you're talking about! And as for you, Brother Jonathan, I'm ashamed of you! Taking credit for all this—arragh!" She turned to Greg. "Gregory, I'm an old woman, and perhaps I'm an old fool, as well. But I've had more fun and excitement in the past month than I've had in the previous forty years. Be—be damned if I'll go back to Earth and piddle away my remaining years at operas and pink teas. I'm staying here with you!"
Enid Andrews, into whose shoulders had so quickly come the grace and ease of authority that was her charm, looked shocked. "Maud!" she exclaimed.
Sparks Hannigan breathed a sigh of relief. "Then that makes three of us," he said. "Any more takers?"
Tommy O'Doul pushed his way to Greg's side. "Can I stay, too, Greg? Can I, huh? Me, too?"