Second Foundation

again, sometimes, when she was old herself.

“And just how,” he asked, “did you know it was I he expected.”

“Well, who else could it be? He was expecting somebody in so secrety a way, if you know what I mean—and then you come gumping around trying to sneak through windows, instead of walking through the front door, the way you would if you had any sense.” She remembered a favorite line, and used it promptly. “Men are so stupid!”

“Pretty stuck on yourself, aren’t you, kid? I mean, Miss. You could be wrong, you know. What if I told you that all this is a mystery to me and that as far as I know, your father is expecting someone else, not me.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I didn’t ask you to come in until after I saw you drop your briefcase.”

“My what?”

“Your briefcase, young man. I’m not blind. You didn’t drop it by accident, because you looked down first, so as to make sure it would land right. Then you must have realized it would land just under the hedges and wouldn’t be seen, so you dropped it and didn’t look down afterwards. Now since you came to the window instead of the front door, it must mean that you were a little afraid to trust yourself in the house before investigating the place. And after you had a little trouble with me, you took care of your briefcase before taking care of yourself, which means that you consider whatever your briefcase has in it to be more valuable than your own safety, and that means that as long as you’re in here and the briefcase is out there and we know that it’s out there, you’re probably pretty helpless.”

She paused for a much-needed breath, and the man said, grittily, “Except that I think I’ll choke you just about medium dead and get out of here, with the briefcase.”

“Except, young man, that I happen to have a baseball bat under my bed, which I can reach in two seconds from where I’m sitting, and I’m very strong for a girl.”

Impasse. Finally, with a strained courtesy, the “young man” said, “Shall I introduce myself, since we’re being so chummy. I’m Pelleas Anthor. And your name?”

“I’m Arca— Arkady Darell. Pleased to meet you.”

“And now Arkady, would you be a good little girl and call your father?”

Arcadia bridled. “I’m not a little girl. I think you’re very rude—especially when you’re asking a favor.”

Pelleas Anthor sighed. “Very well. Would you be a good, kind, dear, little old lady, and call your father?”

“That’s not what I meant either, but I’ll call him. Only not so I’ll take my eyes off you, young man.” And she stamped on the floor.

There came the sound of hurrying footsteps in the hall, and the door was flung open.

“Arcadia—” There was a tiny explosion of exhaled air, and Dr. Darell said, “Who are you, sir?”

Pelleas sprang to his feet in what was quite obviously relief. “Dr. Toran Darell? I am Pelleas Anthor. You’ve received word about me, I think. At least, your daughter says you have.”

“My daughter says I have?” He bent a frowning glance at her which caromed harmlessly off the wide-eyed and impenetrable web of innocence with which she met the accusation.

Dr. Darell said, finally: “I have been expecting you. Would you mind coming down with me, please?” And he stopped as his eye caught a flicker of motion, which Arcadia caught simultaneously.

She scrambled toward her Transcriber, but it was quite useless, since her father was standing right next to it. He said, sweetly, “You’ve left it going all this time, Arcadia.”

“Father,” she squeaked, in real anguish, “it is very ungentlemanly to read another person’s private correspondence, especially when it’s talking correspondence.”

“Ah,” said her father, “but ‘talking correspondence’ with a strange man in your bedroom! As a father, Arcadia, I must protect you against evil.”

“Oh, golly—it was nothing like that.”

Pelleas laughed suddenly, “Oh, but it was, Dr. Darell. The young lady was going to accuse me of all sorts of things, and I must insist that you read it, if only to clear my name.”

“Oh—” Arcadia held back her tears with an effort. Her own father didn’t even trust her. And that darned Transcriber— If that silly fool hadn’t come gooping at the window, and making her forget to turn it off. And now her father would be making long, gentle speeches about what young ladies aren’t supposed to do. There just wasn’t anything they were supposed to do, it looked like, except choke and die, maybe.

“Arcadia,” said her father, gently, “it strikes me that a young lady—”

She knew it. She knew it.

“—should not be quite so impertinent to men older than she is.”

“Well, what did he want to come peeping around my window for? A young lady has a right to privacy—Now I’ll have to do my whole darned composition over.”

“It’s not up to you to question his propriety in coming to your window. You should simply not have let him in. You should have called me instantly—especially if you thought I was expecting him.”

She said, peevishly, “It’s just as well if you didn’t see him—stupid thing. He’ll give the whole thing away if he keeps on going to windows, instead of doors.”

“Arcadia, nobody wants your opinion on matters you know nothing of.”

“I do, too. It’s the Second Foundation, that’s what it is.”

There was a silence. Even Arcadia felt a little nervous stirring in her abdomen.

Dr. Darell said, softly, “Where have you heard this?”

“Nowhere, but what else is there to be so secret about? And you don’t have to worry that I’ll tell anyone.”

“Mr. Anthor,” said Dr. Darell, “I must apologize for all this.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” came Anthor’s rather hollow response. “It’s not your fault if she’s sold herself to the forces of darkness. But do you mind if I ask her a question before we go? Miss Arcadia—”

“What do you want?”

“Why do you think it is stupid to go to windows instead of to doors?”

“Because you advertise what you’re trying to hide, silly. If I have a secret, I don’t put tape over my mouth and let everyone know I have a secret. I talk just as much as usual, only about something else. Didn’t you ever read any of the sayings of Salvor Hardin? He was our first Mayor, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Well, he used to say that only a lie that wasn’t ashamed of itself could possibly succeed. He also said that nothing had to be true, but everything had to sound true. Well, when you come in through a window, it’s a lie that’s ashamed of itself and it doesn’t sound true.”

“Then what would you have done?”

“If I had wanted to see my father on top secret business, I would have made his acquaintance openly and seen him about all sorts of strictly legitimate things. And then when everyone knew all about you and connected you with my father as a matter of course, you could be as top secret as you wanted and nobody would ever think of questioning it.”

Anthor looked at the girl strangely, then at Dr. Darell. He said, “Let’s go. I have a briefcase I want to pick up in the garden. Wait! Just one last question. Arcadia, you don’t really have a baseball bat under your bed, do you?”

“No! I don’t.”

“Hah. I didn’t think so.”

Dr. Darell stopped at the door. “Arcadia,” he said, “when you rewrite your composition on the Seldon Plan, don’t be unnecessarily mysterious about your grandmother. There is no necessity to mention that part at all.”

He and Pelleas descended the stairs in silence. Then the visitor asked in a strained voice, “Do you mind, sir? How old is she?”

“Fourteen, day before yesterday.”

“Fourteen? Great Galaxy— Tell me, has she ever said she expects to marry someday?”

“No, she hasn’t. Not to me.”

“Well, if she ever does, shoot him. The one she’s going to marry, I mean.” He stared earnestly into the older