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At least she liked the place, "Amalgamated's Country Gentleman Estate Spacious, Yet fully Automated." "We are," the Old Man told Ben when he was given the Company-assigned quarters, "starting a new trend. With the terrific decline in birth rate during the past 90 to 100 years, you'll be astonished at how much room there is out there. No reason for everyone to live in the suburban centers any more.
There were a lot of important things they could do for a salesman or, sometimes, not do. This one, being helpful, stretched out a long metal arm to open the door to the inner office for Ben. He smiled his appreciation and went in. The Old Man, Amalgamated's grand old salesman, was billiard bald, aging, a little stout and a little slower now. But he was still a fine sales manager.
A man had to feel good about winning the approval of Amalgamated's grand Old Man. And it did seem to make Betty happy. But the actual selling of the fool house and even the two other, identical houses on the other side of the hill he just couldn't seem to get much of a glow over it. He had done it; and what had he done?
"And that's it," said Ben smiling, a sheaf of paper forms suddenly in his hand. "What? Not ?" "The house, yes. Amalgamated's Country Gentleman Estate, complete, everything in it except Bennie, Betty and me. Your equity in your Center co-op can serve as down payment, easy three-generation terms, issue insurance.
"There now, Ben," said Betty, holding Bennie a little awkwardly in her arms in the soar-kart. They had moved out so the Stoddards could move right in. Now they were on their way in to their reserved suite at Amalgamated's Guest-ville. "You were absolutely marvellous. Imagine selling all three of them!" "There wasn't anything to it, actually." "Ben, how can you say that?
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