He stopped smirking as Amantha hitched up her skirts and, holding the package in one hand, swung up the ladder. Agile as goats and probably as sensible, he thought. He took hold of her as she neared the top.
"Grandma, you're too old to climb around. You'll break every brittle bone in your body if you fall."
"Ain't so brittle," said Amantha, making way for Ethan who had followed her. "My, it's cold!" She began shivering. "Invite us in to get warm."
"You can't go in. I'm busy. Hey, wait!" The pilot hurried after her into the control compartment.
Amantha was looking around when he arrived. "Cozy but kind of bare," she said. "Why don't you hang up pictures?"
"Most fabulous pictures you'll ever see are right there."
Amantha followed his glance. "Nothing but Mars. I can see that every day." She puzzled over it. "Oh, you're teasing an old woman. I didn't mean what you see out of the port, stars and planets and such. I'd want a picture of an Indian settin' on a horse."
"I'll bet!" muttered the pilot. "Get warm in a hurry. I've got work to do."
"You just go ahead," she said. "We'll set here and toast our toes. We don't aim to interfere."
"I'll stay," said the pilot hastily. "Let's have the present." He'd made a tactical error—he should have ignored the noise that went shimmering through the hull when the old man had pounded with a rock. No, it was nice to think he could have, but impossible. Patience was one of the things the aged did have and the young didn't.