Sugar Plum Part 3

"--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, blus.h.i.+ng. "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 gla.s.s 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-fas.h.i.+oned 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!"

She stopped. She stared at the captain. "What's the matter?"

"I'm afraid," he said, looking very serious, "that you don't understand.

Your Cousin Aurelia is right."

Betty wilted. "You can't mean it!"

"I don't know exactly what does it. Maybe it's something in the water and air and food--"

Charles stared at the plates on the table in horror.

"It's nothing you need be afraid of," the captain went on. "You see, its effect just depends on the kind of person you are way inside."

Betty began to perk up. She eyed Charles appraisingly.

"Is Charles the right kind of person?" she asked.

"I'm sure he is, and your cousin is, too, though she keeps it pretty well hidden. If they weren't, Sugar Plum would soon let us know it, believe me." He grinned. "And now let's all go a-courtin'. I'll get my guitar and call Herman."

He went to the door and whistled, and instantly a large reddish creature came lolloping in. It saw the guitar and blinked eagerly.

Betty linked her arm in the captain's. "Come along, Charlie."

Charles fumbled around. He was scared.

Then Betty looked over her shoulder and smiled. It was a completely new smile. He had never seen it before. It made him tremble with apprehension.

"You know," she said softly, "I think it'll sort of be fun being uninhibited."

Charles knocked over a gla.s.s, and his chair, and he paused only to drink some more water.

"So," he shouted, "do I!"

"I suspected you might," said the captain.

Together they went out on the porch and sat down in a swing; and, for a few moments, in silence, they watched Sugar Plum's two moons sailing through the strange, perfumed sky. The larger was celadon green; the smaller, off-white, was glowing, gleaming.

Finally, "Cousin Aurelia?" called Betty.

"Betty, are you out in the dark with that man?"

"Charles and I both are. But he isn't a pirate any more and he's really quite nice. Besides, he's going to sing to you."

"You tell him to go away--far away. I've barricaded the window and I have my sharp scissors. I warn you, if he makes one false move--"

"This is where I came in," remarked Charles.

The captain settled back, tuned his guitar, and started to sing in a warm ba.s.s-baritone, with Herman whistling a tenor obbligato through his nose. Betty and Charles thought the effect was charming, even if Herman did tend to go a bit flat on the high notes.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

First, the captain sang _Down by the Old Mill Stream_ and _Sweet Genevieve_. Then he tried a number of sentimental arias from the more respectable operas, and _The Lost Chord_, and several other old favorites.

Occasionally, Cousin Aurelia sniffed loudly, but she said nothing until his serenade came to an end.

"Betty!" she called. "Can you hear me?"

"Do I have to?"

"Tell that person out there that it has done him no good to make those unG.o.dly noises. My fingers have been in my ears all the time."

"You must've been really a sight," giggled Betty.