"Certainly, Deety. Gay Deceiver, close your doors."

Pop said, "Deety, I was not aware that I had been dodging. I thought I was conducting a reasonable discussion."

"Pop, you always think so. But you are reasonable only in mathematics. Zebadiah asked you whether or not, under the circumstances, did he have reason to ask for a conference? You haven't answered it."

"If Hilda had not told him not to-"

"Pop! Answer that question or I will never speak to you again in my life!"

My husband said, "Deety, Deety! Don't make threats."

"My husband, I never make threats, either. Pop knows it."

Pop took a deep breath. "Zeb, under the circumstances you have described, you were justified in asking the Captain for an immediate private conference."

I let out my breath. "Thanks, Pop."

"I did it for myself, Deety. Hilda? Captain?"

"What is it, Jacob?"

"I should have gone with you at once when you first asked me to."

"Thank you, Jacob. But I did not 'ask' you; I ordered you. True, it was phrased as a request... but orders of a commanding officer are customarily phrased as requests-a polite protocol. You explained this custom to me yourself. Although I already knew it." Aunt Hilda turned to look at Zebadiah.

"Chief Pilot, the departure for Minus-J is postponed until late tomorrow. I will give you the time after I have consulted the Brigadier. I want to see one of those vermin, alive, photograph it stereo and cinema, and, if possible, dissect one. Since I intend to remain overnight, I hope to pick up clothes for MinusJ, too-but the reasons for delay are to learn more about vermin and to carry out my commitment to Brigadier Hird-Jones."

Aunt Hilda paused, continued: "All hands, special orders. Do not remove

anything from the car that you cannot afford to abandon. This car may lift on five minutes' warning even in the middle of the night. You should keep close to me unless you have a guarantee from me of longer time. Tonight I will sleep in the car. If we lift in the night, I will send word to Princess Suite. Zebbie, I will retain the captaincy until we ground on Minus-J. Schedule: Dinner tonight is eight-thirty pip emma local time, about three hours hence. Black tie for gentlemen. Deety suggests that we wear what we wore our wedding night; she has our outfits packed together. The Brigadier will send someone to Princess Suite shortly after eight local to escort us to a reception. I will settle tomorrow's schedule with him. Jacob, I will slip down to the car after the House is quiet. If someone sees me, I will be running down for a toothbrush. Questions?"

"Captain?" said Pop.

"Copilot."

"Hilda, must you sleep in the car?"

"Jacob, 'twere best done quickly!"

"I'm begging you."

"You want me to be your whore one last time? That's not too much to ask... since you were willing to marry me knowing my thoroughly tarnished past. Yes, Jacob."

"No, no, no! I want you to sleep in my arms-that's all I ask."

"Only that? We can discuss it after we go to bed. All hands, prepare for space. Report!"

I splashed the Hillbilly and giggled. "Cap'n Auntie chum, that flatters me more than anything else you could ever say. While I can't imagine needing a jigger-if I did-or if I needed any sort of help and it took one who loves me no matter what, you know to whom I would turn. The one who loves me even when I'm bad. Who's that?"

"Thank you, Deety. We love and trust each other."

"Now tell me- Did you ever have any intention of sleeping tonight in the car?"

She pulled the chain again. Under that racket she said into my ear, "Deety doll, I never had any intention of sleeping tonight."

"He's too fat."

Zeb:

Sharpie sat on the Governor's right with my wife on his left, which gave Jake and me the privilege of sharing Lady Herbert, a loud shout away. The space was filled with mess jackets, dinner coats, and wives in their best. We each had one footman to insure that we did not starve; this platoon was bossed by a butler as impressive as the Pope, who was aided by a squad of noncom butlers. Female servants rushed in and out to serving tables. His Supremacy the Butler took it from there but used his hands only in offering splashes of wine to the Governor to taste and approve.

All were in livery-decorated with the Broad Arrow. The British colony consisted of a) wogs, b) transportees, c) discharged transportees, d) officers and enlisted men, e) civil servants, and f) spouses and dependents. I know even less about the Russian colony. Military and serfs, I think.

The ladies were in Victorian high-style dowdiness, which made Deety and Sharpie birds of paradise among crows. Jump suit and sailor pants had shocked people at tea. But at dinner-Deety wore the velvet wrap she had the night we eloped; Sharpie wore her sunset-shade mink cape; Jake and I unveiled them on the grand staircase leading down to the reception hall. Naw, we didn't rehearse; we were mysterious strangers, guests of the Governor General and His Lady, so all eyes were upon us. Maids, hurrying up, met us there to take our ladies' wraps.

I had questioned the propriety of house guests coming downstairs in wraps. Sharpie had answered, "Utterly correct, Zebbie-because I set the style. I did so this afternoon; I shall until we leave." I shut up; Sharpie has infallible instinct for upstaging.

Have I mentioned how Sharpie and Deety were dressed at Sharpie's party? They practically weren't. I wish I had had that hail bugged to record the gasps when Jake and I uncovered our prizes.

These two had last been seen at tea, one in a jump suit, the other in an outfit that looked donated by the Salvation Army, with no makeup. We had been to our suite before tea only for a hasty wash.

But now-Sharpie did Deety's hair; Deety did Sharpie's; Sharpie styled both faces, including too much lipstick, which Deety doesn't often wear. I asked Sharpie if she knew the history and significance of lipstick. She answered, "Certainly do, Zebbie. Don't bother us." She went on making Deety beautiful. Deety is beautiful but doesn't know it because her features have that simple regularity favored by Praxiteles.

Having put too much lipstick on Deety, Sharpie removed some, then carried her makeup onto her breasts so that it disappeared under the dress. Which is pretty far because they saved material on that dress at the top in order to give it a full, floor-length skirt. You can't quite see her nipples-in the flesh I mean; they generally show through her clothes, always when she's happy- because Deety stands tall. Her mother had told her, "Deety, if a woman is tall, the answer is to look at least three centimeters taller than you are."

Deety always believed her mother; she stands tall, sits straight; she never leans or slouches; she can get away with that dress by half a centimeter. I'm not sure of the material but the color is the shade of green that goes best with strawberry hair. That dress, her height, long legs, broad shoulders, a waist two sizes too small setting off breasts two sizes too big-the combo could get her a job as a show girl.

When Sharpie finished gilding Deety I couldn't see that she had been made up at all....ut knew durn well that she did not look the way she had before. Sharpie picked her jewelry, too-sparingly, as Deety had all her pretties with her, her own and those that had belonged to her mother. Sharpie based it on an emerald-and-pearl neckpiece, plus a matching pin and ring.

As for Sharpie, twice my darling's age and half as big, restraint was not what she used. The central diamond of her necklace was smaller than the Star of Africa.