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Show "Dr'Igor and Pym together," her mother went on, "they will arrive at some solution." Janni snorted and then, horrified at such ridicule of her mother's chosen belle-son, turned her head and coughed to cover up. But Dr'Anya was not so easily fooled. "Meanest thou to disparage the father or the son?" asked Dr'Anya coldly. "If it please, thee, my mother, I meant only that the thoughts of the father far outweigh those of the son." "Marry, child, Pymlyn Grant-Sheblem is both handsome and clever, indeed." The memory of the adolescent Pym surrounded by adoring maidens came immediately to Dr'Anya's mind. "Aye, handsome he be, but with naught but the clear air in his head, if it please thee, my mother!" The young Janni's face had turned pink and she was dangerously close to tears. Dr'Anya looked at Janni, astonished. "But, nay. my child! Pymlyn is his father's son! " "Pym has his father's fair looks, my mother, but in faith he has none of his brains!" And so saying, Janni turned her head away and looked out the window. By Saint Ida's knees, thought Dr'Anya in anger, I chose the child for Janni with great care! "He is indeed the image of his father...." said Janni to the window meaningfully, and in such a wise voice that it gave Dr'Anya pause. Aye, the boy is the image of his father and no mistake, thought Dr'Anya, and grew very still with thinking. Later that day, the aircar was sweeping down over Brighton-on-the- Plain, and the dark, needle-like Tartars were rising up in the distance. 141 |
