Ethan removed his hat and his bent shoulders straightened. He seemed to grow taller. "Rain," he said in awe. "Thirty years and yet I haven't forgotten what it's like." "It's wet, that's what it's like," said Amantha. "Robot, let us in or I'll have Ethan take a wrench to you. He loves to tinker." "I can't be threatened. My sole concern is the welfare of my charge. Also, I'm too large for any human to hurt me." "Damnation, I'm soppin'!" complained Ethan. "It's better to remember the rain than to be in it." "Wait till my son Jimmy gets back. He'll be ravin'. Makin' us stay out here and get soaked." "Son? Is the Jimmy you refer to Pilot James Huntley?" "Ex-pilot." "Correct. But he's not at home. He took his wife to the hospital half an hour ago." "So soon?" gasped Amantha. "Thought I taught him better than that. Women have got to rest between kids." "It's not another child," said the robot with disinterest. "It has to do with one of the ills flesh is heir to and machines are not. Nothing serious." Ethan fidgeted, turning up his collar. Water began flowing from the eaves. "Stop arguin' and let us in. Jimmy will turn off your juice when he finds you've kept his folks outside." "Folks? He has none here. A mother and father living happily on Mars. They died quite recently, lost in space and plunging into the Sun." "Make up your mind," Amantha said peevishly. "We ain't on Mars, we weren't happy and we didn't get lost and plunge into the Sun." "I merely repeat--in sequence--the information I'm given or overhear. If it's inconsistent, so are humans. I'm used to it." "'Mantha, they think we're dead," said Ethan. He wiped a raindrop away. "Poor Jimmy!" A thin wail came from a crack in the door. The robot's eyes shone briefly, then dimmed. "What's that?" asked Amantha. "Sounds like a baby. Thought you said no one was home." "No responsible adult. Only a child. Because of that, I can admit no one except the parents--or a doctor if I decide one is needed." The robot whirred and drew itself up. "He's absolutely safe. I'm a Sitta." "You sure are. Now get out of my way before I jab you. The kid's crying." "He is, but it's no concern of yours. I'm better acquainted with infant behavior than any human can be. The pathetic sob merely means that the child wants attention. I was given no instructions to hold him." * * * * * Again the child cried. "Who needs to be told?" demanded Amantha. "Nobody gives grandmothers instructions." "He's got a grandfather to cuddle him," added Ethan. "How far do you think we came to do it?" "And he's not cryin' because he wants attention. Something's stickin' him and he's hungry. Don't you think a grandmother would know?"