He made another futile stab at the paper and his wife tossed it angrily into the next room.
"That's just it, George! She won't play with anyone else. There are dozens of little boys and girls that she should make friends with, but she won't. She won't go near them unless I make her. That's no way for a little girl to grow up. You want her to be normal, don't you? You want her to be able to take her part in society."
"You're jumping at shadows, Grace. Pretend Robbie's a dog. I've seen hundreds of children who would rather have their dog than their father."
"A dog is different, George. We must get rid of that horrible thing. You can sell it back to the company. I've asked, and you can."
"You've asked? Now look here, Grace, let's not go off the deep end. We're keeping the robot until Gloria is older and I don't want the subject brought up again." And with that he walked out of the room in a huff.
Mrs. Weston met her husband at the door two evenings later. "You'll have to listen to this, George. There's bad feeling in the village."
"About what?" asked Weston? He stepped into the washroom and drowned out any possible answer by the splash of water.
Mrs. Weston waited. She said, "About Robbie."
Weston stepped out, towel in hand, face red and angry, "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, it's been building up and building up. I've tried to close my eyes to it, but I'm not going to any more. Most of the villagers consider Robbie dangerous. Children aren't allowed to go near our place in the evenings."
"We trust our child with the thing."
"Well, people aren't reasonable about these things."
"Then to hell with them."
"Saying that doesn't solve the problem. I've got to do my shopping down there. I've got to meet them every day. And it's even worse in the city these days when it comes to robots. New York has just passed an ordinance keeping all robots off the streets between sunset and sunrise."
"All right, but they can't stop us from keeping a robot in our home. Grace, this is one of your campaigns. I recognize it. But it's no use. The answer is still, no! We're keeping Robbie!"
And yet he loved his wife - and what was worse, his wife knew it. George Weston, after all, was only a man - poor thing - and his wife made full use of every device which a clumsier and more scrupulous sex has learned, with reason and futility, to fear.
Ten times in the ensuing week, he cried, "Robbie stays, and that's final!" and each time it was weaker and accompanied by a louder and more agonized groan.
Came the day at last, when Weston approached his daughter guiltily and suggested a "beautiful" visivox show in the village.
Gloria clapped her hands happily, "Can Robbie go?"
"No, dear," he said, and winced at the sound of his voice, "they won't allow robots at the visivox - but you can tell him all about it when you get home." He stumbled all over the last few words and looked away.
Gloria came back from town bubbling over with enthusiasm, for the visivox had been a gorgeous spectacle indeed.
She waited for her father to maneuver the jet-car into the sunken garage, "Wait till I tell Robbie, Daddy. He would have liked it like anything. Especially when Francis Fran was backing away so-o-o quietly, and backed right into one of the Leopard-Men and had to run." She laughed again, "Daddy, are there really Leopard-Men on the Moon?"
"Probably not," said Weston absently. "It's just funny make-believe." He couldn't take much longer with the car. He'd have to face it.
Gloria ran across the lawn. "Robbie. -Robbie!"
Then she stopped suddenly at the sight of a beautiful collie which regarded her out of serious brown eyes as it wagged its tail on the porch.
"Oh, what a nice dog!" Gloria climbed the steps, approached cautiously and patted it. "Is it for me, Daddy?"
Her mother had joined them. "Yes, it is, Gloria. Isn't it nice - soft and furry? It's very gentle. It likes little girls."
"Can he play games?"
"Surely. He can do any number of tricks. Would you like to see some?"
"Right away. I want Robbie to see him, too. Robbie!" She stopped, uncertainly, and frowned, "I'll bet he's just staying in his room because he's mad at me for not taking him to the visivox. You'll have to explain to him, Daddy. He might not believe me, but he knows if you say it, it's so."
Weston's lip grew tighter. He looked toward his wife but could not catch her eye.
Gloria turned precipitously and ran down the basement steps, shouting as she went, "Robbie- Come and see what Daddy and Mamma brought me. They brought me a dog, Robbie."
In a minute she had returned, a frightened little girl. "Mamma, Robbie isn't in his room. Where is he?" There was no answer and George Weston coughed and was suddenly extremely interested in an aimlessly drifting cloud. Gloria's voice quavered on the verge of tears, "Where's Robbie, Mamma?"
Mrs. Weston sat down and drew her daughter gently to her, "Don't feel bad, Gloria. Robbie has gone away, I think."
"Gone away? Where? Where's he gone away, Mamma?"
"No one knows, darling. He just walked away. We've looked and we've looked and we've looked for him, but we can't find him."
"You mean he'll never come back again?" Her eyes were round with horror.
"We may find him soon. We'll keep looking for him. And meanwhile you can play with your nice new doggie. Look at him! His name is Lightning and he can-"
But Gloria's eyelids had overflown, "I don't want the nasty dog - I want Robbie. I want you to find me Robbie." Her feelings became too deep for words, and she spluttered into a shrill wail.