That was another source of great pleasure to Andrew, these visits from Little Miss and Little Sir, and the occasions when he was permitted to care for the child. Andrew was, after all, basically a household robot of the NDR series, however gifted at woodworking he might be or how profitable his business enterprise had become. Caring for children was one of the things he had been particularly designed to do.
With the birth of a grandson who lived nearby, Andrew felt that Sir had someone now to replace those who had gone. He had meant for a long while now to approach Sir with an unusual request, but he had hesitated to do it until this time. It was Little Miss-who had known for quite a while what it was that Andrew had in mind-who urged him finally to speak out.
Sir was sitting by the fire in his massive high-winged chair, holding a ponderous old book in his hands but all too obviously not reading it, when Andrew appeared at the arched doorway of the great room.
"May I come in, Sir?"
"You know you don't need to ask that. This is your house as well as mine, Andrew."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
The robot took a few steps forward. His metal treads made a quiet clicking sound against the dark shining wood of the floor. Then he halted and waited, silent. This was going to be very difficult, he knew. Sir had always been something of a short-tempered man, but in his old age he had grown especially volatile in his reactions.
And there were even certain First Law considerations that had to be taken into account. Because what Andrew was planning to ask might very well upset Sir to the point that it would cause harm to the old man.
"Well?" Sir demanded, after a while. "Don't just stand there, Andrew. You've got a look on your face that tells me that you want to talk to me about something."
"The look on my face does not ever change, Sir."
"Well, then, it's the way you're standing. You know what I mean. Something's up. What is it, Andrew?"
Andrew said, "What I wish to say is-is-" He hesitated. Then he swung into the speech he had prepared. "-Sir, you have never attempted to interfere in any manner whatever with my way of handling the money I have earned. You have always allowed me to spend it entirely as I wished. That has been extremely kind of you, Sir."
"It was your money, Andrew."
"Only by your voluntary decision, Sir. I do not believe there would have been anything illegal about your keeping it all. But instead you established the corporation for me and permitted me to divert my earnings into it."
"It would have been wrong for me to do anything else. Regardless of what mayor may not have been my legal prerogatives in the matter of your earnings."
"I have now amassed a very considerable fortune, Sir."
"I would certainly hope so. You've worked very hard."
"After payment of all taxes, Sir, and all the expenses I have undertaken in the way of equipment and materials and my own maintenance and upgrading, I have managed to set aside nearly nine hundred thousand dollars."
"I'm not at all surprised, Andrew."
"I want to give it to you, Sir."
Sir frowned-the biggest frown in his repertoire, in which his eyebrows descended an extraordinary distance and his lips rose until they were just beneath his nose and his mustache moved about alarmingly-and glared at Andrew out of eyes which, although now dimmed with age, still were able to summon a considerable degree of ferocity.
"What? What kind of nonsense is this, Andrew?"
"No sort of nonsense at all, Sir."
"If I had ever wanted your money, I wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of setting up your company, would I? And I certainly don't want it now. I have more money than I know what to do with as it is."
"Nevertheless, Sir, what I would like to do is sign my funds over to you-"
"I won't take a cent, Andrew. Not a single cent!"
"-not as a gift," Andrew went on, "but as the purchase price of something that I am able to obtain only from you."
Sir stared. He looked mystified now.
"What could there possibly be that you could buy from me, Andrew?"
"My freedom, Sir."
"Your-"
"My freedom. I wish to buy my freedom, Sir. Up till now I have simply been one of your possessions, but I wish now to become an independent entity. I would always retain my sense of loyalty and obligation to you, but-"
"For God's sake!" Sir cried, in a terrible voice. He rose stiffly to his feet and hurled his book to the floor. His lips were quivering and his face was flushed a mottled red. Andrew had never seen him look so agitated. "Freedom? Freedom, Andrew? What on Earth could you be talking about?"
And he stalked from the room in rage.
Seven
ANDREW SUMMOneD LITTLE MISS. Not so much for his own sake, but because Sir's anger had been so intense that Andrew feared for the old man's health, and Little Miss was the only person in the world who could soothe him out of such an irascible mood.
Sir was in his upstairs bedroom when she arrived. He had been there for two hours. Andrew showed Little Miss up the stairs and halted, hesitating, outside the room as she began to enter it. Sir could be seen pacing back and forth, moving with such determination and ferocity that he seemed to be wearing a track in the antique oriental carpet. He paid no attention to the two figures in the hallway.
Little Miss glanced back at Andrew.
"Why are you waiting out there?" she asked.
"I don't think it would be useful for me to venture near Sir just now, Little Miss."
"Don't be foolish."
"I am the one who upset him so."
"Yes, I realize that. But he's surely over it by now. Come on in with me, and between us we'll get this thing cleared up in no time."
Andrew could hear the rhythmic angry sound of Sir's steady pacing. "With all respect, Little Miss, it does not seem to me that he is over it in the least. I believe he is still quite troubled. And if I irritate him further -No, Little Miss. I am unable to enter his room. Not until you assure me that he is calm enough so that I can safely be seen by him."
Little Miss stared at Andrew a moment. Then she nodded and said, "All right, Andrew. I understand."
She went inside. Andrew heard the rhythm of Sir's anguished pacing begin to slow a bit. He heard voices: first that of Little Miss, speaking gently and calmly, and then that of Sir, erupting in torrents of volcanic wrath, and then Little Miss again, as quietly as before, and then Sir, not quite as frenziedly. And then Little Miss, still calmly but this time not gently: speaking quite firmly, in fact.
The whole while, Andrew had no idea what was being said. It would not have been difficult for him to adjust his audio receptors to pick up the conversation clearly. But that seemed inappropriate to him; and so the only adjustment he had made was in the opposite direction, allowing him to monitor the conversation sufficiently to know whether his help might be needed, but not so that he could understand the individual words.
After a time Little Miss appeared at the doorway and said, "Andrew, would you step in here now?"
"As I said before, I am extremely concerned about the state of Sir's emotional level, Little Miss. If I were to enter, and provoke him all over again-"
"His emotional level is fine, Andrew. Blowing off a little steam isn't going to kill him. It's good for him, as a matter of fact. Now come on in here. Come in."
It was a direct order-coupled with a lessening of First Law potentials. Andrew had no choice but to obey.
He found Sir sitting in his enormous winged armchair by the window-the mahogany-and-leather armchair that Andrew had made for him fifteen years before-with a lap-robe wrapped about him. He was indeed calm again, but there was a steely glint in his eye, and-sitting enthroned the way he was-he had the look about him of an angry old emperor plagued by unruly subordinates. He ignored Andrew's presence completely.
Little Miss said, "All right, Father. We can discuss this quietly and rationally, can't we?"
Sir shrugged. "I try to discuss everything quietly and rationally. I always have."