ches that the McGarveys
had made of _their_ lives. Stealthily, he went into the bathroom, locked
the door as well as he could and began to pour the contents of Gramps'
bottle down the drain. He was going to refill it with full-strength
anti-gerasone from the 22 smaller bottles on the shelf.

The bottle contained a half-gallon, and its neck was small, so it seemed
to Lou that the emptying would take forever. And the almost
imperceptible smell of anti-gerasone, like Worcestershire sauce, now
seemed to Lou, in his nervousness, to be pouring out into the rest of
the apartment, through the keyhole and under the door.

* * * * *

The bottle gurgled monotonously. Suddenly, up came the sound of music
from the living room and there were murmurs and the scraping of
chair-legs on the floor. "Thus ends," said the television announcer,
"the 29,121st chapter in the life of your neighbors and mine, the
McGarveys." Footsteps were coming down the hall. There was a knock on
the bathroom door.

"Just a sec," Lou cheerily called out. Desperately, he shook the big
bottle, trying to speed up the flow. His palms slipped on the wet glass,
and the heavy bottle smashed on the tile floor.

The door was pushed open, and Gramps, dumbfounded, stared at the
incriminating mess.

Lou felt a hideous prickling sensation on his scalp and the back of his
neck. He grinned engagingly through his nausea and, for want of anything
remotely resembling a thought, waited for Gramps to speak.

"Well, boy," said Gramps at last, "looks like you've got a little
tidying up to do."

And that was all he said. He turned around, elbowed his way through the
crowd and locked himself in his bedroom.

The Fords contemplated Lou in incredulous silence a moment longer, and
then hurried back to the living room, as though some of his horrible
guilt would taint them, too, if they looked too long. Morty stayed
behind long enough to give Lou a quizzical, annoyed glance. Then he also
went into the living room, leaving only Emerald standing in the doorway.

Tears streamed over her cheeks. "Oh, you poor lamb--_please_ don't look
so awful! It was my fault. I put you up to this with my nagging about
Gramps."

"No," said Lou, finding his voice, "really you didn't. Honest, Em, I was
just--"

"You don't have to explain anything to me, hon. I'm on your side, no
matter what." She kissed him on one cheek and whispered in his ear, "It
wouldn't have