ll over the sofa. I wouldn't have an easy
minute while we were away. Anyway, when we _do_ get out I don't notice
you bending over backwards to get tickets for anything decent. It's
always something _you_ want to see. Those silly Marilyn Monroe movies,
for instance."

"What's wrong with Marilyn Monroe? I wouldn't _mind_ being nagged by
_her_."

"I see," choked the young woman, biting her lip. "Thank you very much.
Of course it's perfectly _OK_ when something is wrong with every other
meal I cook. It's _fine_ when Your Majesty doesn't like the dress I've
got on or the way I have my hair."

Mrs. Randolph's rising voice elicited a child's cry from the rear of
the apartment. Both parents stiffened.

"Go ahead, say it, say it was _me_ who woke him up this time," bleated
Randolph. He quickly snapped a newspaper up between himself and his
wife.

Mrs. Mimms cut the picture and erased the name from the pilot
indicator. The case was a typical one, routine in fact; yet it was the
first one of the assignment and Mrs. Mimms was moved to expedite it.
She picked up the telephone and placed a call to nearby New York City.
The party answered promptly.

"Althea! How nice. I didn't know you were in the Twentieth again. What
can I do for you?"

"You can arrange some entertainment for me, George. Something good.
For two."

Mrs. Mimms held the phone for a minute. Presently the conversation
resumed as the voice of George Kahn, Resident Destinyworker, came over
the wire.

"Sorry to be so long, Althea, it took some managing. I've got you two
in the orchestra for 'My Fair Lady' on the 28th. That's the best of
the current crop. Nice little thing, it'll be running for another four
years of course. Ought to catch it yourself some night."

"I'd love to, George, but I shan't have time. Not the way this
assignment's developing. You know what to do with the tickets."

Mrs. Mimms replaced the telephone in its cradle and turned again to
the Master Selector. Among the kaleidoscope of voices and figures not
all were scenes of frustration and discontent. Yet enough of them were
so that Mrs. Mimms was seriously disturbed. Then again, the apparatus
had its indiscriminate faults: at one scene Mrs. Mimms blushed deeply
and flicked the dial to another setting. Suddenly she was surprised to
hear a familiar voice. The pilot monitor showed that it was the
apartment of the building superintendent.

"It ain't right. You know it ain't right," the super