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!"
"Well, at least I never locked myself in to get away from a pirate," Charles retorted.
The captain stood up with a chuckle. "Say, that reminds me." He went to a bookcase, opened a thick volume, and gave it to Charles. "I want you to read something here."
Charles saw that it was Jane's Dictionary of Space Transportation. He looked up enquiringly.