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, just chock full of lavender, 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. Hell 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?”
“Nowheres, 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.”