Toory stirred. One of his feet jerked with an impulse to move, but he remained motionless. Surely there was no need to shift to alarm-order, and give a warning cry. Higgins was a member of the household.
"Answer me soft, Toory," Higgins said, his voice low and tense. "You and I are goin' out together. You understand what I'm sayin'?"
"Yes," Toory answered softly.
It was easy to understand. Miss Babs often would tell him that they were going out, and he would wait until she was ready. Toory stood motionless. In the faint red glow of his eye-beams the sweat-beads on Higgins' thin, sallow face glistened with tiny sparkling points of light.
"You've learned to take orders from me," Higgins said. "Remember? Even new orders."
"Yes, I remember," Toory said. He remembered that Babs had asked him to obey the orders. That seemed to make a difference.
Now Higgins was standing a little back toward the foyer wall, away from Toory. He said, "I'm takin' you out with me. We're leavin' by the front door. You go first."
Toory's eye-beams swayed, his great burnished body standing irresolute. He could feel his legs and arms trembling because the jangle of confusion was suddenly worse in him. It seemed terribly hard not to make a mistake.
Higgins' voice was insistent, even though it remained soft. "Get going, Toory. You'll obey orders, won't you?"
"Yes," Toory responded.