Grampa knitted his bushy, white eyebrows and petulantly pushed the last button on his pircuit. The last light went out. "You've got work to do, have you? Whose flivver do you think this is, anyhow?"

"It belongs to all of us," Four said shrilly. "You gave us all a sixth share."

"That's right, Four," Grampa muttered, "so I did. But whose money bought it?"

"You bought it, Grampa," Fred said.

"That's right! And who invented the gravity polarizer and the space flivver? Eh? Who made possible this gallivanting all over space?"

"You, Grampa," Fred said.

"You bet! And who made one hundred million dollars out of it that the rest of you vultures are just hanging around to gobble up when I die?"

"And who spent it all trying to invent perpetual motion machines and longevity pills," Joyce said bitterly, "and fixed it so we'd have t. . . Read More