She was not disappointed. "I do hope they can get
him back down all right, Martha." Most of the questions concerned Terry, as was fitting. But this was
different. Some of them were blue and some were red, others were yellow ... green
... orange ... ("Yes
... Yes, it does.") "Martha, when are they bringing him back down?" ("Today ... "It must be wonderful being a star mother,
Martha." ("Yes, it is--in a way.") If only he can last it out for a few more hours, she thought. Martha fixed supper, tried to eat, and
couldn't. Footsteps sounded
behind her, paused. She turned then--
"Good evening, ma'am." And she knew. It
penetrated the capsule, too. "Yes. I'm all right." "It's all right." "No," she said. "I beg your pardon, ma'am?" The general had raised his eyes, too; now, slowly, he lowered them. "I
think I understand, ma'am. The stars _are_ beautiful tonight, aren't they." "More beautiful than they've ever been," she said. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Star Mother, by Robert F. Young