per. But Nana, with a
rather humanly anxious restraint, confined herself to an unobtrusive
look of disapproval.

He left Bennie giggling and doubtless upset, at least to a point of
uneagerness for Nana's bedtime story about Billie the oldtime newsboy,
who sold the Brooklyn Bridge.

So then he was run through a fast ten-minute shower, shave and change by
Valet. He floated downstairs just as Betty came out of the cocktail
lounge to say, "Code 462112 on the approach indicator. Must be the
Stoddards. They always get every place first, in time for an extra
drink."

"Fred and Alice, yes. But damn their taste for gin, don't let Barboy
keep the cork in the vermouth all evening. I like a touch of vermouth. I
wonder if maybe I shouldn't--"

"No, you shouldn't mix the cocktails yourself and scandalize everybody.
You know perfectly well Barboy really does do better anyway."

"Well, maybe. Everything all set, hon? Sorry I was late."

"No trouble here. I just fed Robutler the base program this morning and
spent the rest of the day planning my side of our Sell. How to tantalize
the girls, pique the curiosity without giving it away. But you know--"
she laughed a little ruefully--"I sort of miss not having even the
shopping to do. Sometimes it hardly seems as though you need a wife at
all."

Ben slid an arm around her waist. "Selling isn't the only thing robots
can't do, sugar." He pulled her close.

"Ben! They're at the door."

They were, and then in the door, oh-ing and ah-ing over this and that.
And complimenting Barboy on the martinis. Then the Wilsons came and the
Bartletts and that was it.

"Three couples will be right," Ben had analyzed it. "Enough so we can
let them get together and build up each others' curiosity but not too
many for easy control. People that don't know us so well they might be
likely to guess the gimmick. We'll let them stew all evening while they
enjoy the Country Gentleman House-Warming hospitality. Then, very
casually, we toss it out and let it lie there in front of them. They
will be sniffing, ready to nibble. The clincher will drive them right
in. I'd stake my sales reputation on it." If it matters a damn, he
added. But silently.

They entertained three couples at their house-warming party. It was a
delightful party, a credit to Ben, Betty and the finest built-in house
robots the mind of Amalgamated could devise.

By ten o'clock they had dropped a dozen or more random hints, but never
a s