Prestonby smiled. "I'll take it, if you don't mind," he said. "I'm
acting-chief-Literate here, now, I suppose."

She followed him as he went out into Pelton's office. When he snapped
on the screen, a young man in a white smock, with the Fraternities
Executive Section badge, looked out of it. He gave a slight start when
he saw Prestonby.

"Literate First Class Ralph N. Prestonby, acting voluntarily for
Pelton's Purchasers' Paradise during emergency," he said.

"Literate First Class Armandez, Executive Section," the man in the
screen replied. "This call is in connection with the recent attack of
Chester Pelton upon Literate First Class Bayne."

"Continue, understanding that we admit nothing," Prestonby told him.

"An extemporary session of the Council has found Pelton guilty of
assaulting Literate Bayne, and has fined him ten million dollars,"
Armandez announced.

"We enter protest," Prestonby replied automatically.

"Wait a moment, Literate. The Council has also awarded Pelton's
Purchasers' Paradise damages to the extent of ten million dollars, for
losses incurred by suspension of Literate service, and voted censure
against Literate Bayne for ordering said suspension without consent of
the Council. Furthermore, a new crew of Literates, with their novices,
guards, et cetera, is being sent at once to your store. Obviously,
neither the Fraternities, nor Pelton's, nor the public, would be
benefitted by returning Literate Bayne or any of his crew; he has been
given another assignment."

"Thank you. And when can we expect this new crew of Literates?"
Prestonby asked.

The man in the screen consulted his watch. "Probably inside of an
hour. We've had to do some re-shuffling; you know how these things are
handled. And if you'll pardon me, Literate; just what are you doing at
Pelton's? I understood that you were principal of Mineola High
School."

"That's a good question." Prestonby hastily assessed the circumstances
and their implications. "I'd suggest that you ask it of my superior,
Literate Lancedale, however."

The Literate in the screen blinked; that was the equivalent, for him,
of anybody else's jaw dropping to his midriff.

"Well! A pleasure, Literate. Good day."

* * * * *

"Miss Pelton!" The man in the blue-and-orange suit was still trying to
catch her attention. "Where are we going to put that stuff? Russ
Latterman's out in the store, somewhere, and I can't get in touc