"They'd kill her at central lab, wouldn't they?"
"Well, they'd need her as evidence in Delmont's trial."
"They'd kill her, wouldn't they?"
"When it was over--it's hard to say. The law says deviants must be
destroyed, but--"
"Well?"
He paused miserably. "We've got a few days to think about it, honey. I
don't have to make my report for a week."
He sidled out the door. Looking back, he saw the hard determination in
her eyes as she watched him. He knew somehow that he was going to lose
either his job or his wife. Maybe both. He shuffled moodily out to the
kennels to care for his charges.
* * * * *
A great silence filled the house during the evening. Supper was a
gloomy meal. Only Peony spoke; she sat propped on two cushions at the
table, using her silver with remarkable skill.
Norris wondered about her intelligence. Her chronological age was ten
months; her physical age was about two years; but her mental age seemed
to compare favorably with at least a three year old.
Once he reached across the table to touch her forehead. She eyed
him curiously for a moment and continued eating. Her temperature was
warmer than human, but not too warm for the normally high neutroid
metabolism--somewhere around 101°. The rapid rate of maturation made
I.Q. determination impossible.
"You've got a good appetite, Peony," Anne remarked.
"I like Daddy's cooking better," she said with innocent bluntness.
"When can I go home?"
Anne looked at Norris and waited for an answer. He managed a smile at
the flame-haired cherub. "Tell you what we'll do. I'll call your daddy
on the phone and let you say hello. Would you like that?"