At the hall doorway, Patty turned and looked back, down the long
room. Farnsworth stood where she had left him, and his majestic
pose, as he held his gilded trident, suited well his stalwart,
magnificent physique.
"Come back here," he said, and his voice was not dictatorial, but
quietly compelling.
Slowly Patty danced down the room, swaying, as if in rhythm with
unheard music. As she came to a pause in front of Farnsworth, she
made him a sweeping, mocking courtesy.
"Father Neptune, god of the Sea!" she said, as if offering homage.
Farnsworth raised his hand, dramatically.
"Spirit of the Sea," he said, "Nymph of the silver-crested waves,
kneel before me!"
Catching his mood, Patty sank gracefully on one knee, bowing her
fair head before the majestic sea-god.
"I crown thee," Neptune went on, "fairest of all nymphs, loveliest
of all goddesses. Spirit of the Sea, but also, maiden of the apple
blossoms."
Patty felt a light touch on her bowed head, but did not move,
until a moment later, Neptune held out his hand.
"Rise, Spirit of the Sea, crowned by Neptune, god of the Ocean!"
Patty rose, and in a nearby mirror saw her crown. It was a slender
wreath of wonderfully fine workmanship.
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