The planet of Sonimuira circled a star listed as Beta Aquilae, Alschain. Details of distance and placement meant nothing to the electrified Wesley; what did register was that Herif, in venturing that he would like Sonimuira, had made a galactic understatement.
One look sent Wesley headlong to town in his Aunt Jessica's car. Returning an hour later, he ripped his small armful of travelogues to pieces and—except for one page that fell behind his desk—burned them in the backyard incinerator.
Then he disappeared in the direction of Sampson's Creek.
It was not until the middle of July, when the estate was settled and Miss Jessica Filburn was securely domiciled with her sister in California and Charlie Birdsall and Miriam had married and moved into the inn, that any light was shed upon Wesley's going. Then Charlie, in moving out Wesley's desk to furnish a new guest room, found the final page of the Sonimuiran booklet and set up a cry that brought Miriam, dust-capped and aproned, on the run.
"This is where Wes went," Charlie said.
Miriam pored without comprehension over the lone page. "How do you know?"
"He got these folders all along from some vacation club," Charlie explained. "Must have paid his passage in advance, because this one had tear-off tickets at the bottom.... Where else would he go?"
Miriam sniffed critically at a picture showing a smiling bevy of girls disporting themselves against a lush semi-tropical background.
Charlie took back the page. "Can't tell where the place is, but it says here that the climate is about like Samoa's, that there's no trade or industry and that the population—get this!—is ninety-four and six tenths female. Even Wes should do all right for himself there."