"Hello, son!" the old woman said, waving the cup at Gervase. "'Bout time you came to pay your old mother a visit." She cackled. "I kind of thought something like this would stir you up!" * * * * * "Mother," Gervase said reproachfully, "you know you shouldn't have done it." "What did I do?" she asked, assuming a ludicrous posture of innocence. "You fixed the Prognostications, that's what you did. Although why you had to pick on me--" "Aah, I got tired of supporting you! You're a big boy--it's about time you earned your own living. Besides, I thought it'd be a good idea to elect a sympathetic administration. Sympathetic to me, that is. Palace needs a new ventilating system. Air in here's terrible. Smells as if something'd died and they were too stingy to give it a decent burial." "But why didn't you use the Prognosticator to get new ventilation put in?" Gervase asked. "Seems to me you could have foretold everyone in the Palace would suffocate or something if it wasn't done." "They'd have got around it, same way you got around killing Kipp." Gervase blushed. "You can't fool me!" she cackled gleefully. "I know everything that goes on around this place and a lot that doesn't." She reached over and tapped his knee. "But you'll pay attention to the Prognosticator, boy. Don't you try to weasel out of what it says by looking for double meanings. Time you Overlords learned that when the Prognosticator says something, it means it." "Yes, Mother," he said. "I'd hate to have to give orders to have my own boy disposed of. The last three disposals weren't so bad, but sometimes those things can turn out real messy." "Yes, Mother." She drank gustily from her teacup. "Maybe blood is thicker than water ... but not much." "Yes, Mother." "And why shouldn't you listen to my Prognostications?" she demanded irritably, slamming her teacup down on the table so hard that the typewriter skipped. "Just because they're dolled up a little doesn't mean they're not true. Don't I have a crystal ball? Don't I have a Gypsy tarot pack? Don't I have tea leaves--best tea money can buy, too?" "Yes, Mother." "So?" She looked at him expectantly. "What are you going to do?" Gervase took a deep breath and drew himself up. "I'm going to have the ventilating system attended to right away." "That's my boy," she said fondly, draining another cup of tea and peering at the leaves. "I can see everything's going to work out fine--just fine." End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Man's Best Friend, by Evelyn E. Smith