house. It was mad.
People playing robots. And yet, they seemed to have a wonderful time
while they were doing it.

"But how do you keep staying here?" he had asked Buck Burley, "Why don't
they put you out?"

"Who?" asked Buck. "How? Nobody can sell me on leaving. We like it here.
No robot can force us out. Here we are. Here we stay."

* * * * *

They pulled into the Guest-ville ramp. Bennie was fussy; the nursery
Nana was strange to him. On impulse, Betty took him in to sleep in their
room, ignoring the disapproving stares of both the Nana and the Roboy
with their things.

They were tired, let down. They went to bed quietly.

In the morning Betty was already up when Ben stumbled out of bed. "Hi,"
she said, nervously cheerful. "The house Nanas all had overload this
morning and I won't stand for any of those utility components with
Bennie. So I'm taking care of him myself."

Bennie chortled and drooled vita-meal at his high-chair, unreprimanded.
Ben mustered a faint smile and turned to go dial a shave, cool shower
and dress at Robather.

That done, he had a bite of breakfast. He felt less than top-sale, but
better. Last night _had_ gone well. The Old Man would give them a
pre-paid vacation clearance to any resort in the world or out. Why
gloom?

He rubbed Bennie's unruly hair, kissed Betty and conveyed over from
Guest-ville to office.

Message-sec, in tone respect-admiration A, told him the Old Man was
waiting for him. Susan, the human receptionist in the outer office,
favored him with a dazzling smile. There was a girl who could sell; and
had a product of her own, too.

The Old Man was at his big, oak desk but, a signal honor, he got up and
came half across the room to grab Ben's hand and shake it. "Got the full
report, son. Checked the tapes already. That's selling, boy! I'm proud
of you. Tell you what, Ben. Instead of waiting for a sales slack, I'm
going to move you and that sweet little wife of yours right into a
spanking new, special Country Gentleman unit I had in mind for myself.
And a nice, fat boost in your credit rating has already gone down to
accounting. Good? Good. Now, Ben, I have a real, artistic sales
challenge that is crying for your talent."

"Sir? Thank you. But, sir, there is the matter of the vacation--"

[Illustration]

"Vacation? Sure, Ben. Take a vacation anytime. But right now it seems to
the Old Man you're on a hot selling streak. I don't want to