'Nevertheless I am enormously relieved to hear your voice, Captain. I have a message from the Governor General. Are you ready to record?"

Zeb nodded; Hilda answered Yes; the lieutenant continued: "From the Governor General to H. C. Burroughs, Master Gay Deceiver.' Hurry home, the children are crying. We all miss you. The fatted calf is turning on the spit. That document is signed and sealed, including the additional clause. Signed:

"Bertie" Captain, that is the Governor's way of signing a message to an intimate friend. A signal honor, if I may say so."

"Gracious of him. Please tell the Governor General that I am ready to ground and will do so as soon as you tell me that the spot in which we were parked-the exact spot-is free of any obstruction whatever."

Bean was back in about three minutes saying that our spot was clear and would be kept so. Hilda nodded to Deety, who said, "Gay Parade Ground."

I had a flash of buildings fairly close, then we were back in the sky. Hilda snapped, "Chief Pilot, get Leftenant Bean!"

Then-"Mr. Bean! Our spot was not clear."

"It is now, Captain; I have just come from the parapet. The Governor's poodle got loose and ran out. The Governor chased him and brought him back. Could that have been it?"

"It decidedly was it. You may tell the Governor-privately-that never in battle has he been so close to death. Astrogator, take her down!"

"GayParadeGround!"

Bean must have heard the gasp, then cheers, while Hilda's words were still echoing in his radio shack. We were exactly as before, save that the wide, showy steps to the King-Emperor's residence on Mars were jammed with people: officers, soldiers, civil servants with that slightly dusty look, women with children, and a few dogs, all under restraint.

I didn't spot the Right Honourable "Bertie" until he moved toward us. He was no longer in mufti but in what I could call "service dress" or "undress"-

not a dress uniform-but dressy. Ribbons, piping, wound stripes, etc.-sword when appropriate. Since he was not wearing sword I interpreted our status as "honored guests" rather than "official visitors"-he was ready to jump either way.

He had his wife on his arm-another smart move, our captain being female. His aide (?-left shoulder "chicken guts" but possibly a unit decoration) was with him, too-no one else. The crowd stayed back.

Hilda said, "Chief Pilot-" then pointed to the mikes, drew her finger across her throat. Zeb said, "Outside audio is cold, Cap'n."

"Thank you, Gay, lock the bulkhead door, open your doors."

I jumped down and handed Hilda out, offered her my arm, while Zeb was doing the same with Deety portside. We met, four abreast at Gay's nose, continued moving forward a few paces and halted facing the Governor's party as they halted. It looked rehearsed but we had not even discussed it. This placed our ladies between us, with my tiny darling standing tall, opposite the Governor.

The aide boomed, "His Excellency Governor General the Lieutenant General the Right Honourable Herbert Evelyn James Smythe-Carstairs and Lady Herbert Evelyn James!"

The Governor grinned. "Dreadful," he said quietly, "but worse with ruffles, flourishes, and the Viceroy's March-I spared you that." He raised his voice, did not shout but it projected-and saluted Hilda. "Captain Burroughs! We bid you welcome!"

Hilda bowed, returning the salute. "Excellency... Lady Herbert... thank you! We are happy to be here."

Lady Herbert smiled at being included, and bobbed about two centimeters- a minimum curtsy, I suppose, but can't swear to it, as she was swathed in one of those dreadful garden-party-formal things-big hat, long skirt, long gloves. Hilda answered with a smile and a minimum bow.

"Permit me to present my companions," Hilda continued. "My family and also my crew. On my left my astrogator and second-in-command, our daughter Doctor D. T. Burroughs Carter, and on her left is her husband our son-in-law, my chief pilot, Doctor Zebadiah John Carter, Captain U.S. Aerospace Reserve." Deety dropped a curtsy as her name was mentioned, a 6-cm job, with spine straight. Zeb acknowledged his name with a slight bow.

Hilda turned her head and shoulders toward me. "It gives me more pride than I can express," she sang, her eyes and mouth smiling, her whole being speaking such serene happiness that it made me choke up, "to present our copilot, my husband Doctor Jacob Jeremiah Burroughs, Colonel of Ordnance

A.U.S,"

The Governor stepped forward quickly and held out his hand. "DoctoF, we are honored!" His handshake was firm.

I returned it in kind, saying in a nonprojecting voice, "Hilda should not have done that to me. Off campus, I'm 'Mister' to strangers and 'Jake' to my friends."

"I'm Bertie, Jake," he answered in his intimate voice, "other than on oc

casions when I can't avoid that string of goods wagons. Or I'll call you 'Doctor."

"You do and it's fifty lines." That made him laugh again.

"And I'm Betty, Jake," Lady Herbert said, in closing in. "Captain Burroughs, may I call you 'Hilda'?" (Was that a hiccup?)

"Call her 'Doctor," I suggested. "She told on the rest of us. How many doctorates do you hold, dear? Seven? Or eight?"

"After the first one, it no longer matters. Of course I'm 'Hilda,' Betty. But, Bertie, we have yet to meet the Brigadier."

I glanced at the tabs of the officer with the aiguillette and booming voice. Yes, A crown inboard and three pips- But when had Hilda learned British insignia? Many Americans can't read their own. I am ceasing to be surprised at how many facts can be stuffed into so small a space.

"Sorry. Friends, this is Brigadier Iver Hird-Jones. Squeaky finds things I lose and remembers things I forget."

"Ladies. Gentlemen. Charmed. Here is something you told me to remember, General." The Brigadier handed a sealed envelope to his boss.

"Ah, yes!" Smythe-Carstairs handed it to my wife. "The Keys to the City, Ma'am. Phrased as you specified, each of you nathed, and that third factor included. Signed by me for the Sovereign and carrying the Imperial seal."

"Your Excellency is most gracious," Hilda said formally, and turned toward Deety. "Astrogator."

"Aye, Captain." Deety placed it in her purse.

Our host looked surprised. "Jake, doesn't your wife have normal curiosity? She seems to have forgot my name, too."

Hilda protested, "I haven't forgotten your name, Bertie. It's an official matter; I treated it formally. I shall read it when I have leisure to open that envelope without damaging the flap seal. To you this is one of thousands of papers; to me it is a once-in-a-lifetime souvenir. If I sound impressed, it's because I am."

Lady Herbert said, "Don't flatter him, my deah." (Yes, she had had a couple.) "You'll turn his head, quite." She added, "Bertie, you're causing our guests to stand when we could be inside, sitting down."

"You're right, m'dear." Bertie looked longingly at Zeb's car.

Hilda played a trump. "Care to look inside, Bertie? Betty, you can sit down here; the captain's chair is comfortable. Will you do me the honor? Someday I'll tell my grandchildren that Lady Herbert sat in that very seat."

"What a charming thought!"

Hilda tried to catch my eye but I was a jump ahead of her, handing Lady Herbert in, making certain that she didn't miss the step, getting her turned around, making sure that she didn't sit down on belts. "If we were about to lift," I told her, while fastening the seat belt loosely (first, moving the buckle- she's Hilda's height but my thickness), "this safety belt would be fastened firmly."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare!"

"Gangway, Pop! Another customer." I got out of the way, and Deety installed Brigadier Hird-Jones in her seat. Deety said, "Pop, if you'll put the Governor

in your seat, Zebadiah will take his own and give his two-hour lecture on the care and feeding of spacecraft, while you and I and Hilda hang in the doorways and correct his errors."