H. B. Fyfe

“ Robert repeated in astonishment. "You must visit me sometime. I'll show you—"
"What's the matter with my food?" interrupted the girl. "I follow the best diet advice my robots could find in the city library."
"They should have looked for human diets, not song-birds'."
He lifted a cover in hopes of finding some overlooked morsel, but the platter was bare.
"No wonder you act so strangely," he said. "You must be suffering from malnutrition. I don't wonder with a skimpy diet like this."
"It's very healthful," insisted Marcia-Joan. ”

“ Henry pointed out, "it is her house."
Robert glared. "What has that to do with it? I don't think I was as unreasonable as she said in smashing that robot. The thing just wouldn't let me alone!"
"I guess," Henry suggested, "it was conditioned to obey Marcia-Joan, not you."
"Well, that shows you! Whose orders are to count, anyway? When I tell a robot to do something, I expect it done. How would you like to find robots trying to boss you around?"
"Are you talking about robots," asked Henry, "or the girl?" ”

“ He rolled sideward for a breath and began to swim slowly for the opposite side of the pool, reflecting upon the curious culture of the planet. Although he had accepted this all his life, it really was remarkable how the original home of the human race had been forsaken for fresher worlds among the stars. ”

“ Behind him sounded the steps of a humanoid serving robot, hastening to pick it up. Robert plunged deep into the cooling water and let himself float lazily to the surface.
Maybe they did, he thought. I could send a robot over to the old city library for information. Still, actually doing anything would probably take the resources of a good many persons—and it isn't so easy to find people now that Earth is practically deserted. ”

“ He encountered the pink-and-blue robot in the hall, superintending several plain yellow ones bearing dishes and covered platters. Robert followed them to a dining room.
"Marcia-Joan sits there," the major-domo informed him as he moved toward the only chair at the table.
obert warily retreated to the opposite side of the table and looked for another chair. None was visible.
Of course, he thought, trying to be fair. Why should anybody in this day have more than one chair? Robots don't sit. ”

“ Pleased at the gleam of water, he called Blue Two.
"Good enough! Put the other robots away for the night. They can trim the edges tomorrow."
He started into the cottage, but his major-domo warned, "Someone comes."
Robert looked around. Through thin portions of the shrubbery, he caught a glimpse of Marcia-Joan's crimson robe, nearly black in the diffused glow of the lights illuminating the grounds.
"Robert!" called the girl angrily. "What are your robots doing? ”