clothes--but then she always did look more like a spiral nebula than
anything else.

(_The record here becomes unintelligible by reason of the passage of a
thunderstorm above the summit of Long's Peak._)

--There must be star-dust in the ether.--I never had to concentrate so
hard before.--That's all about the Settlement House, and don't accuse me
again of slighting details. I'm sure you know the place now as well as
Ooma herself, so I can go on to tell what little I have learned about
human beings.

It seems I am never to admit that I was not born on Earth, for, like all
provincials, the humans pride themselves on disbelieving everything
beyond their own experience, and if they understood they would be
certain to resent intrusions from another planet. I'm sure I don't blame
them altogether when I recall those patronizing Jupitans.--And I'm told
they are awfully jealous and distrustful even of one another, herding
together for protection and governed by so many funny little tribal
codes that what is right on one side of an imaginary boundary may be
wrong on the other.--Ooma considers this survival of the group-soul most
interesting, and intends to make it the subject of a paper. I mention it
only to explain why we call our Settlement a Boarding-House. A
Boarding-House, you must know, is fundamentally a hunting pack
which one can affiliate with or separate from at will.--Rather a
pale yellow idea, isn't it? Ooma thinks it necessary to conform
to it in order to be considered respectable, which is the one thing
on Earth most desired.--What, dear?--Oh, I don't know what it means
to be respectable any more than you do.--One thing more. You'll have
to draw on your imagination! Ooma is called here Mrs. Bloomer.--Her own