a garden with little spotted trees and flowers, a brown
desert of shifting sands and a striped tent; they walked by strawberry
fields and airplane hangars and coal mines; tiny yellow cottages,
cramped apartments, fluted houses and Tudor houses and houses without
description....

Past rock pools and a great zoo full of animals that stared out of
vacant eyes; and everywhere, the seasons changing gently: crisp autumn,
cottony summer, windy spring and winters cool and white....

The six men in uniforms followed the little man with the thin hair. They
did not speak as they walked, but looked around, stared, craned,
wondered....

And the old, young, middle-aged, white, brown, yellow people who did not
move wondered back at the men with their eyes....

"You see, Captain, the success of Mr. Waldmeyer's plan?"

Captain Webber rubbed his cheek.

"I don't understand," he said.

"But you do see, all of you, the perfection here, the quality of Eternal
Happiness which the circular speaks of?"

"Yes ... we see that."

"Here we have happiness and brotherhood, here there have never been wars
or hatreds or prejudices. And now you who were many and left Earth to
escape war and hatred, who were many by your own word and are now only
six, you want to begin life _here_?"

Cross-breezes ruffled the men's hair.

"To _begin_, when from the moment of your departure you had wars of your
own, and killed, and hurled mocking prejudice against a race of people
not like you, a race who rejected and cast you out into space again!
From your own account! No gentlemen, I am truly sorry. It may be that I
misjudged those of you who are left, or rather, that Happy Glades
misjudged you. You may mean well, after all--and, of course, the
location of this asteroid was so planned by the Board as to be uncharted
forever. But--oh, I am sorry." Mr. Greypoole sighed.

"What does he mean by that?" asked Mr. Friden and Lieutenant Peterson.

Captain Webber was gazing at a herd of cows in the distance.

"What do you mean, you're 'sorry'?" demanded Mr. Friden.

"Well...."

"Captain Webber!" cried Mr. Chitterwick, blinking.

"Yes, yes?"

"I feel queer."

Mr. Goeblin clutched at his stomach.

"So do I!"

"And me!"

Captain Webber looked back at the fields, then at Mr. Greypoole. His
mouth twitched in sudden pain.

"We feel awful, Captain!"

"I'm sorry, gentlemen. Follow me to your ship, quickly." Mr. Greypoole
motioned curiously with his han