m
Loopy the mate. "He can't get away. Sugar Plum's got him."

They both rose and the two writhing figures continued to writhe.

"They're _scratching_," Charles exclaimed.

He wasn't quite right. The skipper and the mate of the _Beautiful Joe_
were trying to scratch, but they didn't have enough hands. They were
groaning, and bleating, and begging for aid as they wriggled.

Cousin Aurelia gave Possett a push with her foot.

"I'm soaked to the skin," she announced. "Betty, help me off with this
dress. If I don't wring my petticoat out, I'll catch something."

"Why, Cousin Aurelia!" Charles blurted. "In front of the captain?"

"And why not?" she demanded. "I have undies on, don't I?"

The captain broke in, his voice urgent. "We've got to get these
characters back aboard in a hurry! They can't live on Sugar Plum;
they're the wrong kind of people. I started to tell you. They're
allergic to the critters, the trees, the natives--to everything here.
You, Steward!" He beckoned. "Call the crew of the _Beautiful Joe_."

The robot ran to the ship. It whistled. Immediately, four other robots
appeared.

"Bosun," said the captain to the one in the lead, "Captain Possett is
ill. He is--er--delirious. The mate, too. Carry them in. And take off
quickly for New Texas."

"Aye, aye, sir." The bosun saluted.

They lifted up Possett, who was grunting and swearing. They hoisted the
weasel-faced mate. The hatches clanged shut. Fire burst from the stern.
The ship lifted.

When there was quiet again, Cousin Aurelia looked at the captain. She
examined him carefully.

"Hm-m-m," she murmured to Betty. "Not bad. Not bad at all!"

Then, "Alexander Burgee," she declared, "every bit of this is your
fault. If I hadn't escaped from that man and jumped in the pool--well, I
don't know _what_ might've happened. The least you can do is carry me
back to your house."

* * * * *

At midnight, Charles and Betty sat in the living room. They hadn't had
time to get used to the change in Cousin Aurelia and they still looked
at her unbelievingly. She was wearing a gay housecoat of Betty's, too
tight in just the right places. She had let down her hair, tied it with
a ribbon, and she'd put on a gay smear of lipstick. She was exceedingly
merry.

"I can't imagine how I stood it," she was saying, "for so many years. I
mean, being such an old frump." She laughed brightly. "Why, I was almost
as bad as poor Charlie!"

"We