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can’t limit the boy on that account.”
    “Do you think that makes it any easier?” She was close to tears.
    “No, I don’t. But it is on Hans’ account that you must not keep his son in cotton batting. Hans had courage to burn. If he had been willing to knuckle under to the Nazis he would have stayed at Kaiser Wilhelm Institute. But Hans was a scientist. He wouldn’t trim his notion of truth to fit political gangsters. He—”
    “And it killed him!”
    “I know, I know. But remember, Grace, it was only the fact that you were an American girl that enabled you to pull enough strings to get him out of the concentration camp.”
    “I don’t see what that’s got to do with it. Oh, you should have seen him when they let him out!” She was crying now.
    “I did see him when you brought him to this country,” he said gently, “and that was bad enough. But the fact that you are American has a lot to do with it. We have a tradition of freedom, personal freedom, scientific freedom. That freedom isn’t kept alive by caution and unwillingness to take risks. If Hans were alive he would be going with me—you know that, Sis. You owe it to his son not to keep him caged. You can’t keep him tied to your apron strings forever, anyhow. A few more years and you will have to let him follow his own bent.”
    Her head was bowed. She did not answer. He patted her shoulder. “You think it over, Sis. I’ll try to bring him back in one piece.”
    When Art came upstairs, much later, his mother was still sitting, waiting for him. “Arthur?”
    “Yes, Mother.”
    “You want to go to the moon?”
    “Yes, Mother.”
    She took a deep breath, then replied steadily. “You be a good boy on the moon, Arthur. You do what your uncle tells you to.”
    “I will, Mother.”
    Morrie managed to separate his father from the rest of the swarming brood shortly after dinner. “Poppa, I want to talk to you man to man.”
    “And how else?”
    “Well, this is different. I know you wanted me to come into the business, but you agreed to help me go to Tech.”
    His father nodded. “The business will get along. Scientists we are proud to have in the family. Your Uncle Bernard is a fine surgeon. Do we ask him to help with the business?”
    “Yes, Poppa, but that’s just it—I don’t want to go to Tech.”
    “So? Another school?”
    “No, I don’t want to go to school.” He explained Doctor Cargraves’ scheme, blurting it out as fast as possible in an attempt to give his father the whole picture before he set his mind. Finished, he waited.
    His father rocked back and forth. “So it’s the moon now, is it? And maybe next week the sun. A man should settle down if he expects to accomplish anything, Maurice.”
    “But, Poppa, this is what I want to accomplish!”
    “When do you expect to start?”
    “You mean you’ll let me? I can? ”
    “Not so fast, Maurice. I did not say yes; I did not say no. It has been quite a while since you stood up before the congregation and made your speech, ‘Today I am a man—’ That meant you were a man, Maurice, right that moment. It’s not for me to let you; it’s for me to advise you. I advise you not to. I think it’s foolishness.”
    Morrie stood silent, stubborn but respectful.
    “Wait a week, then come back and tell me what you are going to do. There’s a pretty good chance that you will break your neck on this scheme, isn’t there?”
    “Well…yes, I suppose so.”
    “A week isn’t too long to make up your mind to kill yourself. In the meantime, don’t talk to Momma about this.”
    “Oh, I won’t!”
    “If you decide to go ahead anyway, I’ll break the news to her. Momma isn’t going to like this, Maurice.”
    Doctor Donald Cargraves received a telephone call the next morning which requested him, if convenient, to come to the Jenkins’ home. He did so, feeling, unreasonably he thought, as if he were being called in on the carpet. He found Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins in the drawing room;