A week of Vestal days later, in the afternoon, Rose and the kids came to John Endlich, who was toiling over his cucumbers.
"Their name is Harper, Pop!" Bubs shouted.
"And they've got three children!" Evelyn added.
John Endlich, straightened, shaking a kink out of his tired back. "Who?" he questioned.
"The people who are going to be our new neighbors, Johnny," Rose said happily. "We just picked up the news on the radio—from their ship, which is approaching from space right now! I hope they're nice folks. And, Johnny—there used to be country schools with no more than five pupils...."
"Sure," John Endlich said.
Something felt warm around his heart. Leave it to a woman to think of a school—the symbol of civilization, marching now across the void. John Endlich thought of the trouble at the mining camp, which his first load of fresh vegetables, picked up by a small space boat, had perhaps helped to end. He thought of the relics in this strange land. Things that were like legends of a lost pastoral beauty. Things that could come back. The second family of homesteaders was almost here. Endlich was reconciled to domesticity. He felt at home; he felt proud.
Bees buzzed near him. A tay-tay bug from a perished era, hummed and scraped out a mournful sound.
"I wonder if the Harper kids'll call you Mr. Pun'kins, Pop," Bubs remarked. "Like the miners still do."
John Endlich laughed. But somehow he was prouder than ever. Maybe the name would be a legend, too.