r absently； “You think that's a doable thing？”
What had distracted him？ Was Bryce still in the foyer？ Why didn't he just go away？
I forced myself to focus on the conversation。 “Do I think that's a doable thing？ Well； I don't
really know。 All machines use energy； right？ Even real
efficient ones。 And that energy has to e from somewhere…。”
“What if the machine generated it itself？” Chet asked； but one eye was still on the foyer。
“How could it do that？”
Neither of them answered me。 Instead； my father stuck out his hand and said； “Good evening；
Rick。 Nice of you to have us over。”
Mr。 Loski pumped my dad's hand and joined our group； making little ments about the
weather。 When that topic was all dried up； he said；
“And wow； that yard of yours has really e along。 I told Chet here that we ought to hire
him out。 He really knows his pickets； doesn't he？”
He was joking。 I think。 But my father didn't take it that way； and neither did Chet。 I was afraid
of what might happen next； but then Mrs。 Loski
tinkled a little dinner bell and called； “Hors d'oeuvres； everybody！”
The hors d'oeuvres were delicious。 But when my father whispered that the teeny…tiny black
berries on top of the crackers weren't berries at all； but
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caviar； I stopped midbite。 Fish eggs？ Repulsive！
Then my father pointed out that I ate chicken eggs all the time； so ish over