Free Friday by Robert A. Heinlein Page A

sap., eh? Now I must run before she misses me.”
    “Aren’t you permitted to come kiss me good-night? Or to stay here for that matter? Aren’t you my husband, too?”
    “Yes, of course, dear. But Anita is touchy as can be at present and there is no point in getting her stirred up.”
    Brian kissed us good-night and left. I said, “What is this, Bertie? Why shouldn’t Ellen marry anyone she wishes to marry? She is old enough to make her own decisions.”
    “Well, yes. But Ellen didn’t use good judgment about it. She’s married a Tongan and she’s gone to live in Nuku’alofa.”
    “Does Anita feel that they should live here? In Christchurch?”
    “Eh? No, no! It’s the marriage she objects to.”
    “Is there something wrong with this man?”
    “Marjorie, didn’t you hear me? He’s a Tongan .”
    “Yes, I heard. Since he lives in Nuku’alofa, I would expect him to be. Ellen is going to find it awfully hot there, after being brought up in one of the few perfect climates. But that is her problem. I still don’t see why Anita is upset. There must be something I don’t know.”
    “Oh, but you do! Well, maybe you don’t. Tongans are not like us. They aren’t white people; they are barbarians.”
    “Oh, but they’re not!” I sat up in bed, thereby putting a stop to what hadn’t really started. Sex and arguments don’t mix. Not for me, anyway. “They are the most civilized people in all Polynesia. Why do you think the early explorers called that group ‘the Friendly Isles’? Have you ever been there, Bertie?”
    “No but—”
    “I have. Aside from the heat it’s a heavenly place. Wait till you see it. This man—What does he do? If he simply sits and carves mahogany for the tourists, I could understand Anita’s unease. Is that it?”
    “No. But I doubt that he can afford a wife. And Ellen can’t afford a husband; she didn’t finish her degree. He’s a marine biologist.”
    “I see. He’s not rich…and Anita respects money. But he won’t be poor, either—he’ll probably wind up a professor at Auckland or Sydney. Although a biologist can get rich, today. He may design a new plant or animal that will make him fabulously wealthy.”
    “Darling, you still don’t understand.”
    “Indeed I don’t. So tell me.”
    “Well… Ellen should have married one of her own kind.”
    “What do you mean by that, Albert? Someone living in Christchurch?”
    “It would help.”
    “Wealthy?”
    “Not a requirement. Although things are usually smoother if financial affairs aren’t too one-sided. Polynesian beach boy marries white heiress always has a stink to it.”
    “Oh, oh! He’s penniless and she has just collected her family share—right?”
    “No, not exactly. Damn it, why couldn’t she have married a white man? We brought her up better than that.”
    “Bertie, what in the world? You sound like a Dane talking about a Swede. I thought that New Zealand was free of that sort of thing. I remember Brian pointing out to me that the Maori were the political and social equals of the English in all respects.”
    “And they are. It’s not the same thing.”
    “I guess I’m stupid.” (Or was Bertie stupid? Maori are Polynesians, so are Tongans—what’s the ache?)
    I dropped the matter. I had not come all the way from Winnipeg to debate the merits of a son-in-law I had never seen. “Son-in-law…” What an odd idea. It always delighted me when one of the little ’uns called me Mama rather than Marjie—but I had never thought about the possibility of ever having a son-in-law.
    And yet he was indeed my son-in-law under Ennzedd law—and I didn’t even know his name!
    I kept quiet, tried to make my mind blank, and let Bertie devote himself to making me feel welcome. He’s good at that.
    After a while I was just as busy showing him how happy I was to be home, the unwelcome interruption forgotten.

VII
    The next morning, before I was out of bed, I resolved not to open the subject of Ellen and