by H. B. Fyfe
became aware that she was regarding him with much the samesuggestion of helpless dismay as the major-domo.
"Why, you've eaten it all!" she exclaimed.
"All?" snorted Robert. "There was hardly any food!"
Marcia-Joan walked slowly around the table, staring at the emptydishes.
"A few bits of raw vegetables and the tiniest portion ofprotein-concentrate I ever saw!" Robert continued. "Do you call that adinner to serve a guest?"
"And I especially ordered two portions--"
"Two?" Robert repeated in astonishment. "You must visit me sometime.I'll show you--"
"What's the matter with my food?" interrupted the girl. "I follow thebest diet advice my robots could find in the city library."
"They should have looked for human diets, not song-birds'."
He lifted a cover in hopes of finding some overlooked morsel, but theplatter was bare.
"No wonder you act so strangely," he said. "You must be suffering frommalnutrition. I don't wonder with a skimpy diet like this."
"It's very healthful," insisted Marcia-Joan. "The old film said it wasgood for the figure, too."
"Not interested," grunted Robert. "I'm satisfied as I am."
"Oh, yes? You look gawky to me."
"_You_ don't," retorted Robert, examining her disdainfully. "You areshort and stubby and too plump."
"_Plump?_"
"Worse, you're actually fat in lots of places I'm not."
"At least not between the ears!"
Robert blinked.
"Wh-wh-WHAT?"
"And besides," she stormed on, "those robots you brought are paintedthe most repulsive colors!"
* * * * *
Robert closed his mouth and silently sought the connection.
_Robots?_ he thought. _Not fat, but repulsive colors, she said. Whathas that to do with food? The woman seems incapable of logic._
"And furthermore," Marcia-Joan was saying, "I'm not sure I care forthe looks of you! Lulu, put him out!"
"Who's Lulu?" demanded Robert.
Then, as the major-domo moved forward, he understood.
"What a silly name for a robot!" he exclaimed.
"I suppose you'd call it Robert. Will you go now, or shall I call morerobots?"
"I am not a fool," said Robert haughtily. "I shall go. Thank you forthe disgusting dinner."
"Do not use the front door," said the robot. "Only Marcia-Joan usesthat. All robots use other doors."
Robert growled, but walked down the hall to the back door. As thisswung open to permit his passage, he halted.
"It's dark out there now," he complained over his shoulder. "Don't youhave any lights on your grounds? Do you want me to trip oversomething?"
"Of course I have ground lights!" shrilled Marcia-Joan. "I'll showyou--not that I care if you trip or not."
A moment later, lights concealed among the trees glowed into life.Robert walked outside and turned toward the cottage.
_I should have asked her what the colors of my robots had to do withit_, he thought, and turned back to re-enter.
He walked right into the closed door, which failed to open before him,though it had operated smoothly a moment ago.
"Robots not admitted after dark," a mechanical voice informed him."Return to your stall in the shed."
"Whom do you think you're talking to?" demanded Robert. "I'm not oneof your robots!"
There was a pause.
"Is it Marcia-Joan?" asked the voice-box, after considerable buzzingand whirring.
"No, I'm Robert."
There was another pause while the mechanism laboriously shifted backto its other speech tape. Then: "Robots not admitted after dark.Return to your stall in the shed."
Robert slowly raised both hands to his temples. Lingeringly, hedragged them down over his cheeks and under his chin until at last thefingers interlaced over his tight lips. After a moment, he let out hisbreath between his fingers and dropped his hands to his sides.
He raised one foot to kick, but decided that the door looked too hard.
He walked away between the beds of flowers, grumbling.
* * * * *
Reaching the vicinity of the cottage, he parted the tall shrubsbordering its grounds and looked through carefully before proceeding.Pleased at the gleam of water, he called Blue Two.
"Good enough! Put the other robots away for the night. They can trimthe edges tomorrow."
He started into the cottage, but his major-domo warned, "Someonecomes."
Robert looked around. Through thin portions of the shrubbery, hecaught a glimpse of Marcia-Joan's crimson robe, nearly black in thediffused glow of the lights illuminating the grounds.
"Robert!" called the girl angrily. "What are your robots doing? I sawthem from my upstairs window--"
"Wait there!" exclaimed Robert as she reached the shrubs.
"What? Are you trying to tell me where I can go or not go? I--YI!"
The shriek was followed by a tremendous splash. Robert stepped forwardin time to be spattered by part of the flying spray. It was cold.
_Naturally, being drawn from the brook_, he reflected. _Oh, well, thesun will warm it tomorrow._
There was a frenzy of thrashing and splashing in the dimly lightedwater at his feet, accompanied by coughs and spluttering demands thathe "do something!"
Robert reached down with one hand, caught his hostess by the wrist,and heaved her up to solid ground.
"My robots are digging you a little swimming hole," he told her. "Theybrought the water from the brook by a trench. You can finish it withconcrete or plastics later; it's only fifteen by thirty feet."
He expected some sort of acknowledgment of his efforts, and peered ather through the gloom when none was forthcoming. He thus caught aglimpse of the full-swinging slap aimed at his face. He tried to duck.
There was another splash, followed by more floundering about.
"Reach up," said Robert patiently, "and I'll pull you out again. Ididn't expect you to like it this much."
Marcia-Joan scrambled up the bank, tugged viciously at her soddenrobe, and headed for the nearest pathway without replying. Robertfollowed along.
As they passed under one of the lights, he noticed that the redreflections of the wet material, where it clung snugly to the girl'sbody, were almost the color of some of his robots.
_The tennis robot_, he thought, _and the moving targets forarchery--in fact, all the sporting equipment._
"You talk about food for the figure," he remarked lightly. "You shouldsee yourself now! It's really funny, the way--"
He stopped. Some strange emotion stifled his impulse to laugh at theway the robe clung.
Instead, he lengthened his stride, but he was still a few feet behindwhen she charged through the front entrance of the house. The door,having opened automatically for her, started to swing closed. Robertsprang forward to catch it.
"Wait a minute!" he cried.
Marcia-Joan snapped something that sounded like "Get out!" over hershoulder, and squished off toward the stairs. As Robert startedthrough the door to follow, the striped robot hastened toward him fromits post in the hall.
"Do not use the front door!" it warned him.
"Out of my way!" growled Robert.
The robot reached out to enforce the command. Robert seized it by theforearm and put all his weight into a sudden tug. The machine totteredoff balance. Releasing his grip, he sent it staggering out the doorwith a quick shove.
* * * * *
A hasty glance showed Marcia-Joan flapping wetly up the last steps.Robert turned to face the robot.
"Do not use that door!" he quoted vindictively, and the robot haltedits rush indecisively. "Only Marcia-Joan uses it."
The major-domo hesitated. After a moment, it strode off around thecorner of the house. First darting one more look at the stairs, Robertthrust his head outside and shouted: "Blue Two!"
He held the door
open while he waited. There was an answer from theshrubbery. Presently, his own supervisor hurried up.
"Fetch the emergency toolbox!" Robert ordered. "And bring a couple ofothers with you."
"Naturally, Robert. I would not carry it myself."
A moment after the robot had departed on the errand, heavy stepssounded at the rear of the hall. Marcia-Joan's robot had dealt withthe mechanism of the back door.
Robert eyed the metal mask as the robot walked up to him. He found thecolor contrast less pleasant than ever.
"I am not using the door," he said