"Look, kids," I pleaded. "I don't know whether this game's dangerous or
not. Maybe you'll wind up in a lion's mouth, or something."
"Oh, no, Daddy!" Star shrilled in glee. "We'd just TP ourselves right
out of there."
"But fast," Robert chortled in agreement.
"Anyway, I've got to think it over," I said stubbornly. "I'm only a
Tween, but, Star, I'm your daddy and you're just a little girl, so you
have to mind me."
"I always mind you," she said virtuously.
"You do, eh?" I asked. "What about going off the block? Visiting the
Greeks and Star Men isn't my idea of staying on the block."
"But you didn't say that, Daddy. You said not to cross the street. And
I never did cross the street. Did we, Robert? Did we?"
"We didn't cross a single street, Mr. Holmes," he insisted.
"My God!" said Jim, and he went on trying to light a cigarette.
"All right, all _right_! No more leaving this time, then," I warned.
"Wait!" It was a cry of anguish from Jim. He broke the cigarette in
sudden frustration and threw it in an ashtray. "The museum, Pete,"
he pleaded. "Think what it would mean. Pictures, specimens, voice
recordings. And not only from historical places, but Star men, Pete.
_Star men!_ Wouldn't it be all right for them to go places they know
are safe? I wouldn't ask them to take risks, but--"
"No, Jim," I said regretfully. "It's your museum, but this is my
daughter."
"Sure," he breathed. "I guess I'd feel the same way."