commiserating with the woman beside him. "Don't let the officials get you down," he said. "We'll have to put up with them for the journey. But on New Eden, I hear, the conditions are so good they hardly need any regulations at all." "It isn't that," sniffed his friend. "It's just that you gave it to me and I was hoping to wear it tonight." "Perhaps I can buy you something in hydroponics. I had no idea they were so touchy or I'd have had the orchid fumigated." Bridget felt the scorn of the official for the general public. "If you're going to New Eden, you ought to know we want to keep it that way." The red waistcoat looked down at her. "Oh, officialdom without stripes?" he said. "Or are you an old hand? Perhaps you can explain the deal before we get there." So he was the type that cracked wise, and she had put her foot in it right at the beginning. "I've never been off Earth before," she admitted. "I read up on it all first." The lift was at the lock door, and she slipped through without looking back. The speaker was croaking "Ten minutes to go" as she hurried to her cabin and prepared for takeoff. She'd have to do better than this or the trip would be a washout. Better just concentrate on enjoying it ... the new experiences ... the fascination of travel. The jets roared and Bridget Kelly blacked out. Several hours later she had recovered enough to spruce up, take the prescribed dose of covitron against space sickness, and make her way to the lounge. She found the table setting with her name on it and had hardly sat down before a familiar voice began at her ear. "Sure and if it isn't Bridget Kelly, and it's a long time I've been waiting for herself." She looked up into the same laughing eyes, only this time they were above an emerald-green waistcoat. "Still determined that New Eden shall not be polluted by snakes? Oh, excuse me, that was St. Patrick. You're worried about bugs." She laughed in spite of herself and glanced at the place card next hers. "Mr. Patch Maguire," it read.
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