his voice deepened, he spoke with forcefulness rather than timidly. Jubal decided that Mike had joined the human race; he could discharge this patient.
Except (Jubal reminded himself) on one point: Mike still did not laugh. He could smile at a joke and sometimes did not ask to have them explained. Mike was cheerful, even merry — but he never laughed.
Jubal decided that it was not important. This patient was sane, healthy — and human. Short weeks earlier Jubal would have given odds against a cure. He was humble enough not to claim credit; the girls had had more to do with it. Or should he say «girl?»
From the first week of his stay Jubal had told Mike almost daily that he was welcome … but that he should stir out and see the world as soon as he felt able. Jubal should not have been surprised when Mike announced one breakfast that he was leaving. But he was surprised and, to his greater surprise, hurt.
He covered it by using his napkin unnecessarily. «So? When?»
«We're leaving today.»
«Um. Plural. Are Larry and Duke and I going to have to put up with our own cooking?»
«We've talked that over,» Mike answered. «I need somebody, Jubal; I don't know how people do things yet — I make mistakes. It ought to be Jill because she wants to go on learning Martian. But it could be Duke or Larry if you can't spare one of the girls.»
«I get a vote?»
«Jubal, you must decide. We know that.»
(Son, you've probably told your first lie. I doubt if I could hold even Duke if you set your mind.) «I guess it should be Jill. But look, kids — This is your home.»
«We know that — we'll be back. Again we will share water.»
«We will, son.»
«
«
«Jubal, there is no Martian word for “father”. But lately I grokked that you are my father. And Jill's father.»
Jubal glanced at Jill. «Mmm, I grok. Take care of yourselves.»
«Yes. Come, Jill.» They were gone before he left the table.
XXVI
IT WAS the usual carnival — rides, cotton candy, the same flat joints separating marks from dollars. The sex lecture deferred to local opinion concerning Darwin's opinions, the posing show wore what local lawmen decreed, Fearless Fenton did his Death-Defying Dive before the last bally. The ten-in-one did not have a mentalist, it had a magician; it had no bearded lady, it had a half-man-half-woman; no sword swallower but a fire eater, no tattooed man but a tattooed lady who was also a snake charmer, and for the blow-off she appeared «absolutely
The prize went unclaimed. Mrs. Paiwonski posed in «bare living flesh» — her own and a fourteen-foot boa constrictor named «Honey Bun» — with the snake looped so strategically that the ministerial alliance could not complain. As further protection (for the boa) she stood on a stool in a canvas tank containing a dozen cobras.
Besides, the lighting was poor.
But Mrs. Paiwonski's claim was honest. Until his death her husband had a tattooing studio in San Pedro; when trade was slack they decorated each other. Eventually the art work on her was so complete from neck down that there was no room for an encore. She took pride in being the most decorated woman in the world, by the world's greatest artist — such being her opinion of her husband.
Patricia Paiwonski associated with grifters and sinners unharmed; she and her husband had been converted by Foster himself, she attended the nearest Church of the New Revelation wherever she was. She would gladly have dispensed with any covering in the blow-off because she was clothed in conviction that she was canvas for religious art greater than any in museum or cathedral. When she and George saw the light, there was about three square feet of Patricia untouched; before he died she carried a pictorial life of Foster, from his crib with angels hovering around to the day of glory when he had taken his appointed place.
Regrettably much of this sacred history had to be covered. But she could show it in closed Happiness meetings of the churches she attended if the shepherd wanted her to, which he almost always did. Patricia couldn't preach, she couldn't sing, she was never inspired to speak in tongues — but she was a living witness to the light.
Her act came next to last; this left time to put away her photographs, then slip behind the rear canvas for the blow-off. Meanwhile the magician performed.
Dr. Apollo passed out steel rings and invited the audience to make sure that each was solid; then he had them hold the rings so that they overlapped — tapped each overlap with his wand. The links formed a chain. He laid his wand in the air, accepted a bowl of eggs from his assistant, juggled half a dozen. His juggling did not attract many eyes, his assistant got more stares. She wore more than the young ladies in the posing show; nevertheless there seemed slight chance that she was tattooed anywhere. The marks hardly noticed six eggs become five, then four … three, two — at last Dr. Apollo was tossing one egg in the air.
He said, «Eggs are scarcer every year,» and tossed it into the crowd. He turned away and no one seemed to note that the egg never reached a destination.
Dr. Apollo called a boy to the platform. «Son, I know what you are thinking. You think I'm not a real magician. For that you win a dollar.» He handed the kid a dollar bill. It disappeared.
«Oh, dear! We'll give you one more chance. Got it? Get out of here fast — you should be home in bed.» The kid dashed away with the money. The magician frowned. «Madame Merlin, what should we do now?»
His assistant whispered to him, he shook his head. «Not in front of all these people?»
She whispered again; he sighed. «Friends, Madame Merlin wants to go to bed. Will any of you gentlemen help her?»
He blinked at the rush. «Oh, too many! Were any of you in the Army?»
There were still many volunteers; Dr. Apollo picked two and said, «There's an army cot under the platform, just lift the canvas — now, will you set it up on the platform? Madame Merlin, face this way, please.»
While the men set up the cot, Dr. Apollo made passes in the air. «Sleep … sleep … you are asleep. Friends, she is in deep trance. Will you gentlemen who prepared her bed now place her on it? Careful — » In corpselike rigidity the girl was transferred to the cot.
«Thank you, gentlemen.» The magician recovered his wand from the air, pointed to a table at the end of his platform; a sheet detached itself from piled props and came to him. «Spread this over her. Cover her head, a lady should not be stared at while sleeping. Thank you. If you will step down — Fine! Madame Merlin … can you hear me?»
«Yes, Doctor Apollo.»
«You were heavy with sleep. Now you feel lighter. You are sleeping on clouds. You are floating — » The sheet-covered form raised about a foot. «Wups! Don't get too light.»
A boy explained in a whisper, «When they put the sheet over her, she went down through a trap door. That's just a wire framework. He'll flip the sheet away and the framework collapses and disappears. Anybody could do it.»
Dr. Apollo ignored him. «Higher, Madame Merlin. Higher. There — » The draped form floated six feet above the platform.
The youngster whispered. «There's a steel rod you can't see. It's where that corner of the sheet hangs down and touches the cot.»
Dr. Apollo requested volunteers to remove the cot. «She doesn't need it, she sleeps on clouds.» He faced the floating form and appeared to listen. «Louder, please. Oh? She says she doesn't want the sheet.»
(«Here's where the framework disappears.»)
The magician snatched the sheet away; the audience hardly noticed that it disappeared; they were looking
