A Great Day for the Irish

								

of the machine. By this time she knew her way about the settlements.
Without doubt, she told herself, this farm was on the outskirts of
civilization, in some valley as yet untouched by the plague. But long
before she reached the limits of cultivated land, she could see her
destination. It stood out like an oasis in the desert, a little patch
of green between a dried-up cornfield and an expanse of stricken wheat.
Bridget brought her heli down on a velvety lawn in front of a small
cottage and walked, unbelieving, to the door. A shout from within
welcomed her and she entered a clean and simple kitchen-parlor. The
owner of the one healthy farm in New Eden was busy in the attached
greenhouse.
As she glimpsed the red waistcoat dangling from a hook, Bridget
screamed, and Patch Maguire came through the greenhouse door, a flower
pot in one hand, trowel in the other.
"And if it isn't the worm-hunter herself!" he cried. "The czar of the
spaceways! The dandelion dictator! And I was wondering how long it
would take you to find me out."
"But you--" she gasped. "You couldn't--you wouldn't--aren't supposed to
be here!"
"And why not?" he countered. "I'm not like Carrie, she'd rather go on
too sick to eat in space than face starvation on this planet. And then
the bargain I was offered for this place--you wouldn't believe it! All
modern conveniences and they were practically giving it away. Besides,
what had I to fear with the best entomologist in five solar systems
working for the Department of Agriculture? Sure, you'll be having the
problem solved in no time!"
"Don't be giving me that blarney!" Bridget said. "You need only look
out the window to know we've solved nothing at all. And you sitting
here crowing to yourself! You've been breeding plague-resistant plants,
that's what you've done, and keeping them all to yourself! It's a
disgrace!"
Patch began to laugh, and the more he laughed, the angrier Bridget got.
"You should be ashamed!" she shouted. "The whole planet dying and you
sitting here growing greener all the time!"
"And that's the way it's been," he assured her. "This place was dying
on me, too. But only the last few days it's taken a new lease and I'm
at my wit's end to explain it."
"You mean you don't want to explain it. You're hoarding the secret,
and it's a shameful thing!"
"Woman, you're crazy!" he bellowed at her. "I'm no magician to breed a
plague-resistant plant overnight. It takes patience and many seasons,
and I've only just settled in. I put a few things in the garden and
stirred things up in the potting shed. Here, come along--you can see
for yourself."



       *       *       *       *       *
He drew her through the cottage, pointing out the advantages of the
kitchen so near the greenhouse. She walked about the paths and felt of
the rich brown soil without a streak of yellow, and finally her eyes
fell upon some little low leaves by the back step.