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So young Bill Smith, who's much nearer your age, takes his place...which looks better and no one here will ever suspect that I'm a Howard.

"I've worked this shenanigan many times; I know how to make it stand up. But I was trying to get rid of 'Ernest Gibbons' as fast as possible because he's your old foster uncle who is about three times your age and wouldn't dream of patting your pretty bottom, nor would you encourage him to. As everybody knows. But I want to pat your pretty bottom, Dorable."

"And I want you to pat it." She reined up; they were getting close to where houses were near together. "And more. Woodrow, you're saying that we can't live together right away because of what the neighbors might think. But who taught me never to care what the neighbors think? You did."

"True. Although sometimes it's expedient to make the neighbors think what you want them to think in order to influence what they do and say-and this might be such a time. But I also tried to teach you to be patient, dear one."

"Woodrow, I will do exactly what you tell me to. But I'm not really patient about this. I want my husband in my bed!"

"And I want to be there."

"Then what does it matter if people assume that I choose to tell my Uncle Gibbie good-bye in bed? Or that I then go away with a new settler almost at once? Woodrow, you didn't say a word about it at the time-but you knew that I was not virgin, I'm certain. Don't you think there must be others who know it, too? Probably the whole town. I've never worried about it. Why should I worry what they think now?"

"Dora."

"Yes, Woodrow?"

"I'll be in your bed every night, that's settled."

"Thank you, Woodrow."

"The pleasure is mine, madam. Or half of it, at least; you seem to enjoy it, too-"

"Oh, I do! And you know it. Or should."

"So stipulated, let's pass to other matters-except to say that had I found you virgin-big as you are, old as you are- it would have worried me a little, and I might have felt that Helen had not been quite the wholesome influence that I thought she was. That she was indeed, bless her heart! The matter of pretending to be dear old 'Uncle Gibbie' who would never touch little Dora was purely for your face; since it does not worry you, let's drop it. What I started to say is that you can take as long as you like in deciding whether to pioneer here or go to Secundus. Dora, Secundus has more than inside plumbing; it has a Rejuvenation Clinic."

"Oh! You need to 'be near one, Woodrow?"

"No, no! For you, dear."

She was very slow in answering. "That would not make me a Howard."

"Well, no. But it helps. Rejuvenation therapies don't make Howards last forever, either. Some people are helped quite a lot by them; some are not. Maybe someday we'll know more- but now, on the average, rejuvenation techniques seem to about double whatever a person could expect normally, whether he's a Howard...or not a Howard. Uh, do you know anything about how long your grandparents lived?"

"How could I, Woodrow? I just barely remember that I once had parents. I don't even know the names of my grandparents."

"We can find out. The ship carries records of every migrant who takes passage in her. I'll tell Zack-Captain Briggs-to look up your parents' records. Then-in time, for it will take time-I can have your family traced on Earth. Then-"

"No, Woodrow."

"Why not, dear?"

"I don't need to know, I don't want to know. Long ago, three or four years at least, shortly after I figured out that you were a Howard, I also figured out that Howards don't really live any longer than we ordinaries do."

"So?"

"Yes. We all have the past and the present and the future. The past is just memory, and I can't remember when I began, I can't remember when I wasn't. Can you?"

"No."

"So we're even on that. I suppose your memories are richer; you are older than I am. But it's past. The future? It hasn't happened yet, and nobody knows. You may outlive me...or I may outlive you. Or we might happen to be killed at the same time. We can't know and I don't want to know. What we both have is now...and we have that together and it makes me utterly happy. Let's get these mules put away for the night and enjoy some now."

"Suits." He grinned at her. "E.F., or F.F.?"

"Both!"

"That's my Dora! Anything worth doing is worth overdoing."

"And doing again. But just a moment, dear. You told me that Captain Briggs is your son, and consequently my stepson. I suppose he is, but I really can't think of him as such. But- and you needn't answer this; we agreed not to quiz each other about our pasts-"

"Go ahead and ask. If it suits me, I'll answer."

"Well...I can't help being curious about Captain Briggs' mother. Your former wife?'

"Phyllis? Phyllis Briggs-Sperling is her full name. What do you want to knew about her dear? Very nice girl. Further Deponent Sayeth Not. No invidious comparisons."

"I guess I'm being snoopy."

"Perhaps you are. Not that I mind, and it can't hurt Phyllis. Dear, that was a couple of centuries ago; forget it."

"Oh. She's dead?"

"Not that I know of. Zack would know; he's been to Secundus recently. I think he would have told me. But I haven't stayed in touch with her since she divorced me."

"Divorced you? A woman of poor taste!"

"Dora. Dora! Phyllis is not a woman of poor taste; she is a very nice girl. I had dinner with her and her husband the last time I was on Secundus. Zack and I did, I mean-and she and her husband had gone to the trouble of rounding up my other children by her, those who were on planet, and some of my other relatives and made it a family party for me. Thoughtful of her. By the way, she's a schoolmarm, too."

"She is?"

"Yup. Libby Professor of Mathematics, Howard University, New Rome, Secundus. If we go there, we can look her up and you can decide for yourself what sort of person she is."

Dora did not answer. She kneed Betty and started on down the street; Beulah pulled abreast without being told. Buck said, "Shupper...dime!" quite emphatically, and trotted on ahead.

"Lazarus-"

"Careful with that name, dear."

"No one can hear me: Lazarus, unless you insist...I don't want to live on Secundus."

VARIATIONS ON A THEME-XII

The Tale of the Adopted Daughter (Continued)

Separation lay far behind. For three weeks the little train-two wagons in tandem, twelve mules hauling, four running free-had crawled toward Rampart Range. It had been more than two weeks since they had last seen a house. They were on the high prairies now, and for several days the gap of Hopeless Pass had been in sight.

Besides sixteen mules, the little party included a German shepherd bitch and a younger dog, two female cats and a tom, a fresh milch goat with two kids and a young buck, two cocks and six hens of the hardy. Mrs. Awkins variety, a freshly bred sow, and Dora and Woodrow Smith.

The sow had tested pregnant at New Pittsburgh before Smith paid for her, test conducted by Smith himself-and Mrs. Smith had tested pregnant, too, while still at Top Dollar and before Smith cleared Starship Andy J. to leave orbit, for (Smith had not found it necessary to tell his wife this) if Dora had not tested pregnant, the ship would have waited while they tried again-then, if she had still tested negative, he would have changed plans and taken her to Secundus, there to find out why and, if possible, to correct it.

In Smith's opinion as a professional pioneer, it was not only pointless but disastrously foolhardy to attempt single-couple pioneering out of reach of other people with an infertile woman-or a couple infertile with each other, he corrected in his mind, as his own fertility had not been put to the ultimate test for fifty-odd years. While he was about it, he had looked up physical records of Dora's parents in Krausmeyer's ill-kept files, found nothing to worry him-and it had indeed worried him, as he would not have been able to cope even with anything as simple as an Rh-factor incompatibility a long way from nowhere.