"If you don't mind the picture."

"He doesn't mind," Hrom said, adding in Felician, "After all, Papa, we don't have to let any ships but the freighters land."

"Go ahead, then," Blahrog consented.

"Good luck," Hrom added.

"You," Andy welcomed her. "Bah." He shut his eyes. Most of him was sprawled out on the floor.

"Yes, me," Miss Featherpenny agreed, repressing an inclination to kick him. She sat down on one of the kegs, and opened her stenographer's book. "I came to take down the ad for the shoes," she announced."What ad?" Andy moaned. "The newest, biggest, brightest ads can't get over an 0.62. How can I manage an 0.94? You're crazy." He opened his eyes. "But you do have nice legs."

"Felix II is sort of quaint," Miss Featherpenny suggested. "Why not use an old ad?"

"An idea," Andy enunciated, without hope.

"It's sort of pretty too," Miss Featherpenny nudged.

"We could use a color picture of it," Andy said, kicking thoughtfully at an overturned stool.

"The Felicians are quaint looking, too."

"Sure," Andy said. "Put a Felician in the foreground, cobbling." He tried to sit up.

"I've seen ads like that in history books," Miss Featherpenny said, exuding admiration.

"It's so old it's new," Andy said, lying down again. "Old English lettering over the top. A real cliche." He considered Miss Featherpenny's ankle. "Peaceful scenery, Felician shoes?"

"Not quite," said Miss Featherpenny.

"Quiet field, Felician shoes?"

"Nope," said Miss Featherpenny.

"You're an aggravating woman," Andy said sweetly, "but you do have nice legs."

"What about Elysian fields?" Miss Featherpenny suggested.

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