The teapot was cold now, and a last cookie crumb lay unwanted on a plate. Gloom hung like a dark cloud within the Star Scout.
“It’s not fair,” Arthur said for the third time. “It’s just not.”
“Stop saying that,” Stanley told him. “That’s four times now.”
“Five,” said Dr. Ep.
General Ap tried to be cheerful. “Ah, well … Still some tinned meat, eh? And plenty of Grape Fizzola. Much to be thankful for.”
“I will never be thankful for Grape Fizzola,” said Mrs. Ot.
“It’s just that …” Arthur sighed. “I mean, Earth has so much food. Millions of people, and there’s mostly still enough.”
The Tyrrans seemed amazed. “Millions? You’re joking?” said President Ot.
“Hah!” said General Ap. “Dreadful crush, I should think. Millions?”
Mrs. Lambchop smiled. “With all our great nations, many millions. And still the numbers grow.”
“Well, here too.” President Ot shook his head. “Youthful marriages, babies one after another. But millions? Our population—there’s just TyrraVille, of course—is six hundred and eighty-three.”
“Eighty-four,” said Mrs. Ot. “Mrs. Ix had a baby last night.”
Now it was the Lambchops who were amazed.
“Just TyrraVille?” Arthur cried. “But TyrraVille’s your capital, you said!”
“Well, it would have to be, wouldn’t it, dear?” said Mrs. Ot.
Stanley shook his head. “On the whole planet, only six hundred and eighty-four Tyrrans! Gosh, I’ll bet—Wait!”
An idea had come to him. Stanley had had exciting ideas before, but none that excited him as this one did.
“Mrs. Ot!” he shouted. “How much do you weigh?”
“Stanley!” said Mrs. Lambchop.
Mrs. Ot was not offended. “Actually, I’ve slimmed a bit. Though not, sadly, in the hips. I’m six ounces, young man. Why do you ask?”
The words rushed out of Stanley. “Because if you’re average, only children would be even lighter, then all the Tyrrans put together would weigh—Let me figure this out!”
“Less than three hundred pounds,” said Mr. Lambchop, who was good at math. “Though I don’t see—” Then he did see. “Oh! Good for you, Stanley!”
“The lad’s bright, we know,” said General Ap. “But what—”
“General!” said Mr. Lambchop. “Summon all Tyrrans here to the Star Scout! Fetch what remains of your tinned food and Grape Fizzola! Perhaps Earth can be your home till Tyrra is green again!”
