Mother and I were used to father's late hours and would hardly more than stir when he quietly close the screen door and tiptoe on every squeaky board on his way out to bed. I think I've got one. And at once we bounded out of bed, lit lamps, brought out maps-everyone talking at the same time. Nebula were like rock bass to be tossed back into the void as worthless. But comets were a priceless catch.
Comets move but nebulae are stationary.
So when, after an hour of impatient waiting, father trudged back to the hill, we three could hardly contain ourselves for excitement, hoping that the dot had moved. Once in a while, of course, there were false alarms, but father's trained eye seldom betrayed him. The next step was to send word to the Observatory at Harvard. Our camp was a half mile from the nearest telephone, which had 16 people on the line. That method was unthinkable, not only out of kindness to them, but also father could not have heard well with 16 receivers off-he had tried it before.