Her voice reached a new high and clung there. "You--you libertine! You
may lead a riotous life with these natives, but you won't work your will
on me. I'll lock myself in till the police can come from New Texas!"
And, tripping and stumbling over her duster, she fled.
As the door banged behind her, the captain nudged a large beast off a
nearby rock, and sat down. "I can see that Earth hasn't changed," he
remarked. "You tourists still seem to have the daffiest notions." He
sounded quite hurt. "Look, these natives are nice little people. They're
harmless. I call 'em my Sugar Plum pixies, and sometimes we grin at each
other. But that's all. They aren't much past the animal stage. Besides,
they lay eggs. Oh, well--" he shrugged as the Buttons exchanged knowing
looks--"I have plenty of room at the house and I guess you'll be
permanent guests, so welcome to Sugar Plum, anyway."
Betty said angrily, "Sugar Plum's ours. You didn't pay taxes and they
sold it at auction. Charles has the deed in his pocket."
"You poor, dumb kids!" The captain seemed really concerned. "You bought
some fool bureaucrats error. I'm paid up in advance. Come on down, you
can see the receipt."
"Aren't you clever?" said Betty scornfully. "Well, you won't trap us as
easily as that. We don't need you or your house."
"You just might want something to eat, or a hot, soapy shower, or a
tight roof over you when it rains."
The Buttons smiled triumphantly. They had their own house, with a
DoItAll to do everything for them.
"You can leave us alone, Mr. Pirate Burgee. Captain Possett told us your
whole horrible story, and Cousin Aurelia is calling the police right
this minute."
"Possett?" The captain's face twitched. "Mike Possett, of the _Beautiful
Joe_?"
"That's right." Charles felt very superior. "Now you beat it before--"
He didn't finish. From the house came a loud, anguished cry.
They whirled.
Cousin Aurelia, disheveled without helmet or duster, was almost upon
them.
"Charles! It won't work!"
She reached him, threw her arms round his neck and hung on.
"I can't turn the servants on, or the teleprojection, or even the keys
to the closets. Oh, Charles, we'll have nothing to eat, or to drink, or
to wear!"
"That's impossible. DoItAlls never break down."
"We can't live without it!" screeched Cousin Aurelia. "We're millions of
miles from Boston! We're marooned with that monster!"
* * * * *
Burgee's long, low house was indecently plain, without even so much as a
gimcrack or bit of gingerbread decoration. Its many wide windows looked
out over a lake set with islands. Its living room had broad, cushioned
couches and indolent chairs--all suspiciously comfortable.
In exactly such houses, Charles knew, in the wicked old days, a fate
worse than death had been practically part of the fixtures.
"We shouldn't have let him persuade us," he worriedly told Betty.
"Perhaps we'd have starved, but at least Cousin Aurelia wouldn't have
locked herself alone into a strange pirate's bedroom!"
"We've been here all afternoon," Betty pointed out, "and he hasn't tried
anything yet. Besides, he helped carry those cases of hers and he gave
her the keys himself. It's peculiar. Oh, Charles, do you suppose
that--that it's _me_ he's after?"
Before he could answer, a robot came in, a practical, old-fashioned
model with four arms for waiting at table.
"Dinner is served." It snapped its aluminum jaws. "Come to the dining
room, please."
Reluctantly, they obeyed.
"Whatever you do," whispered Charles warningly at the door, "don't let
him ply you with liquor."
The captain stood at the head of the table. He was in full evening
dress, with a heavy gold-nugget watch chain across his muscular middle.
He smelled faintly of mothballs and looked very respectable.
The Buttons examined the table. There wasn't a sign of absinthe or
brandy or even champagne. There was nothing but water.
"It's too bad your cousin won't join us," said the captain, seating them
courteously. "I hope those cartons of hers have something tasty inside
them."
"They contain Dr. Stringfellow's Vegetable Remedy and Tonic for
Gentlewomen," replied Betty primly. "It is said to be very nourishing."
Their host shuddered. Recovering, he clapped his hands sharply. "Oh,
steward!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" said the robot, appearing with a big silver tureen and
setting it down on the table.
The Buttons drew back.
"I can see you don't trust me," laughed the captain. "So we'll serve
everything out in plain sight. You can shuffle the plates if you want
to." He proceeded to ladle out a clear, fragrant soup. "There. Take
whichever you want."
The Buttons selected their plates. They picked up their spoons, dipped
them nervously, made rowing motions.
The captain ate heartily, talking away between spoonfuls. He told them
that Sugar Plum was surrounded by an ionized layer impervious to DoItAll
waves. He said he had no use for such gadgets, or for the Age which
produced them.
"And why," he demanded, "did we become fake Victorians? Why are we worse
than the real ones? I'll tell you. Because space was too big. It made
people feel puny. They wanted a hole to crawl into--something small,
safe and stuffy."
As course followed course, he told them how he had retired from piracy
after homesteading Sugar Plum. Alone with his robots, he had dismantled
his vessel, using its engines for heating and lighting. He had done a
good deal of exploring.
The robot served something like lobster, and something like grouse, and
a roast which might have been venison. It served vegetables in pink,
pear-like clusters and long, golden pods. It served a crisp, succulent
salad.
Charles picked at his food, watching Betty with growing uneasiness.
First, her appetite seemed to improve. Then her eyes started to sparkle,
and the severe little corners of her mouth began to relax. Leaning
forward intently, she became more and more absorbed in the captain.
"--and so here I've been ever since," he said, as he finished his salad,
"and Sugar Plum's just about perfect. Of course, it gets lonely at
times, but--"
Abruptly, Betty's hand darted out, grabbed the captain's beard.
"_Beaver!_" she shouted, laughing and pulling. Then she settled back,
blushing. "I've wanted to do that for years."
Charles reeled. Here was a crisis! He started to rise; hesitated. Of
course, he was shocked to the core, but, "Great Scott, she's pretty!" he
thought; and at once he felt guilty.
He stood up, trying hard to look angry.
"Elizabeth," he announced, "you will leave this room--er--instantly."
"Why?" giggled Betty.
"Because _ladies_ do not pull gentlemen's beards."
The captain was holding his sides and rocking with laughter.
"Now, now," he protested. "Let her get it out of her system. 'Beaver's'
a splendid old custom. It's almost Victorian."
Betty dimpled, resting her chin on the backs of her interlaced hands.
"Don't pay any attention, Captain Burgee. Charlie's a horrid old
fuss-pot. Why shouldn't I yank at your beard? I like you."
"Betty, the man is a _pirate_!"
"Not any more. He's retired. You heard him say so yourself. Anyhow, I
like him. I think he'd make an awfully nice husband for Cousin Aurelia."
Charles reached for the water, and drained his glass in a spluttering
gulp.
"I think so, too," the captain agreed, looking pleased. "I thought so as
soon as I saw her. She's exactly my type." He sighed. "But she does seem
a little unfriendly. Do you suppose a guitar and some old-fashioned
songs at her window might--well, make her want to get better
acquainted?"
Charles thought, "Not that sour old prune!" Surprised at himself, he
swallowed the words just in time.
Betty snickered. "Poor Cousin Aurelia! I simply can't get over her
staying locked in with nothing but Vegetable Remedy. Why, it tastes just
like shoe polish. And it's all because she's scared to death to eat or
drink anything here. She believes that Sugar Plum's really an--an
uninhibited planet!"