He was genuinely surprised when Aunt Fanny asked him to visit the big house, as though the invitation should not have come quite so soon, as though he had been caught unaware with his persuasions and insidious compliments unexpectedly useless; “Don’t you even want to know my name?” he asked blankly.
“I suppose I shall have to introduce you to my brother,” Aunt Fanny said. “Although I don’t believe any name you might give would be important.”
He looked from Aunt Fanny to Miss Ogilvie and back again. “How about my references?” he asked.
“I expect they would be forged,” Aunt Fanny said agreeably. “My mother once hired a butler who gave forged references, because he had been a convict.”
“I see,” said the stranger.
“My father suspected something in the way he walked. Naturally, when I invite you to my house as a guest I would hardly ask for references.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” said the stranger.
Miss Ogilvie, blushing, said to Aunt Fanny, “He seems to me to have something of a military bearing.” She spoke as though the stranger, being so very strange indeed, could not hear her.
“Captain Scarabombardon,” said Aunt Fanny unexpectedly.
“At your service,” said the stranger, who was clearly extremely bewildered.
“In any case,” Miss Ogilvie said, “we will all stand as one when the time comes. Cleansed. Pure.”
“I do not recall that my father mentioned anything of our standing as one, Miss Ogilvie. You are a very fortunate man, Captain Scarabombardon.” She picked up her gloves. “Julia should be coming with the car,” she said. “Come along, Captain.”
_____
“Well,”
said Julia, when the stranger handed Aunt Fanny into the car, “and who might
you
be?”
“He is the captain,” Miss Ogilvie explained eagerly. “He is coming home with us, Aunt Fanny invited him.”
“Captain?” said Julia, who was not at all that bright, “captain of what?”
“I wish I knew,” said the captain.
_____
“Captain Scarabombardon?” said Essex, “am I to be an Harlequin now? I had dreamed of something more heroic. Did I ever tell you,” he asked Mrs. Halloran, “of my trip to the moon?”
“Captain,” Mrs. Halloran said, “will you have wine?”
_____
The True Believers did not delay; perhaps the shortness of their time encouraged haste; at any rate Mrs. Halloran received, at the breakfast table the next morning, a letter written on violet paper with brown ink. The letter was heavily scented with carnation, and Mrs. Halloran read it aloud, holding it at arm’s length.
Dear Fellows in Trust and Faith:
It is with the utmost joy that we here in our humble Society of True Believers, being as far as we knew until now the only select group to be chosen to carry the torch of mankind salute you. If we had known there was any other group like ours we could of gotten together sooner, but it is not yet too late. If you are of genuine faith and truly deserve the higher levels and will repent and sincerely follow the path of true teaching and never turn aside. Our leader will give herself the pleasure of calling upon you very soon and she will of course be able to tell right off whether you are on a spiritual level high enough to join our humble little band. In all life there is hope but of course it will not last much longer. Be prepared.
(Mrs.) Hazel Ossman, Secretary.
Mrs. Halloran folded the letter and put it carefully back into its envelope. “I assume,” she said at last, “that someone will offer me a rational explanation of this. I am most reluctant to believe that I am going mad.”
“It’s that boy in the drug store,” Miss Ogilvie said helpfully, anxious that Mrs. Halloran should not believe that she was going mad. “We were talking, yesterday, while Aunt Fanny was shopping.”
“Aunt Fanny went shopping? I had not heard.”
“I believe that I may go into the village, Orianna, without troubling to ask your permission. I have been accustomed to the village since I was a child, and I cannot remember ever having to ask permission to go there.”
“How did you get there, Aunt Fanny? Did you walk?”
“Certainly not. Julia took a car from the garages.”
Mrs. Halloran turned her eyes on Julia, who flushed and said defiantly, “No one told me not to.”
“Besides,” Aunt Fanny added maliciously, “how did you think the captain got here? We brought him back with us.”
“I had done you the courtesy of assuming, Aunt Fanny, that the captain was another of your ghostly manifestations.”
“Now wait a minute,” the captain said. “I understood I was welcome here, and if I’m not I certainly know what to do about it,” but he made no move to rise from the breakfast table.
“Captain,” said Mrs. Halloran, “Aunt Fanny is kind enough to allow me to entertain my friends here; I can hardly refuse her the same civility. Julia, if you ever again touch anything belonging to me I shall send you away from this house. I leave it to your mother to point out to you what you would then forfeit. Aunt Fanny, you are surely right: you have never had to ask anyone’s permission to go into the village, and I am sure that the villagers are used to you by now.”
“My father took a great interest in the village. I have always tried to carry on his plans.”
“Some of your father’s activities in the village, Aunt Fanny, were luckily discontinued with his death. But I see no reason why you should be kept away from your subjects; next time please ask me for a car and I will send a reliable driver with you. Miss Ogilvie, I will expect you to receive these people with me, since you clearly know them better than I.”
“I don’t know them at all,” Miss Ogilvie cried, “they are certainly not friends of
mine
.”
“They may very well become friends of yours, however, and perhaps even closer than that; perhaps fellow survivors. We must not be overselect, Miss Ogilvie.”
“Aunt Fanny,” cried Miss Ogilvie pathetically, but she was abandoned; Aunt Fanny was speaking to Essex.
_____
The leader of the True Believers was a lady of indeterminate shape, but vigorous presence, perhaps fortified by the silent support of Liliokawani, queen in Egypt. She swept into Mrs. Halloran’s ballroom with the air of one testing the floor for durability; she was wearing a purple dress which presumably fit her, and a fur boa of color and fluff. Behind her came a second, also purple, lady, whose hair was red, and, behind her, a man whose determined majesty was most convincing; he had magnificent hair, which suffered a little by comparison with the leader’s fluffy fur, and he wore, perhaps out of deference, a white waistcoat. At the very last came a withered little lady, peering.
“I am Edna,” said the leader. “Our committee. Hazel, who is also our secretary. Arthur. Ah . . . Mrs. Peterson.”
“Mrs. Peterson,” said Mrs. Halloran majestically. She had been wise in her choice of the ballroom; beneath the sweeping carved ceiling and the white and gold candle sconces these four little people looked toylike; not so much out of place as decorative.
“We have come,” said Edna, not faltering, “to inquire into your present position with regard to supernatural visitations. Prophecies. The end of the world, in fact. Someone told us, down in the village, and being as we’re in much the same line . . .” She spread her hands eloquently.
“Dreadful are the hopes of man,” said Mrs. Peterson drearily.
“Naturally,” Edna continued, “we thought we might like to get together with you folks, if your ideas go along with ours. We don’t take converts, as a rule, but naturally if you folks got to believing by yourselves I guess we got no choice. Anyway,” she finished, “we got to get a place to meet.”
“Everlasting darkness is the end of mortal life,” Mrs. Peterson added.
“I’m the seer in our group,” Edna said. “Who’s yours?”
“I am not altogether sure,” said Mrs. Halloran at last, “that we have a seer. What we do have, of course, is a place to meet. In that respect we are more fortunate.”
“Eternal damnation attends us,” Essex said helpfully.
“Well, who gets your messages?” Edna asked. “Her?” She gestured toward Miss Ogilvie, who gave a little gasp and took a step backward.
“Miss Ogilvie does not receive messages,” Mrs. Halloran said. “Miss Ogilvie is our . . . contact with the outside world.” Miss Ogilvie wrung her hands and looked ready to cry.
“When?” Edna demanded.
“When?” Mrs. Halloran was puzzled.
“My sword shall destroy life,” said Essex.
“Horrible is the future ahead,” said Mrs. Peterson.
“When is your date? Your outside limit?”
“We have not been so far honored . . .” Mrs. Halloran began.
“Jeepers.” Edna was surprised. “Ever hear anything like it?” she asked her committee, and the woman with red hair and the man in the white waistcoat nodded and looked mournful.
“You, sir,” the man said, addressing Essex. “Do you atone?”
“Daily,” said Essex.
“Sin?”
“When I can,” said Essex manfully.
“Metal?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How do you stand on metal? Allow yourselves metal fastenings? Meat? Ills of the flesh?”
“I am heir to all of them,” said Essex, inspired.
The man in the white waistcoat looked puzzled and turned to whisper into the ear of Edna.
“The time is near at hand, and vengeance is swift,” said Mrs. Peterson.
Edna nodded vigorously at the man in the white waistcoat and came forward to speak earnestly to Mrs. Halloran. “Look,” she said, “we’re a whole lot further along than you folks, but even so we’re willing to take you in with us on condition you try to catch up some, and of course we could meet here only out on your lawn, maybe, because we largely don’t believe in roofs over our heads. Now I may as well tell you right off that we got all our messages already, so we just happen to know that the spacemen are coming—”
“Spacemen?” said Mrs. Halloran faintly.
“Spacemen, from Saturn. Why? Do you—”
“Not at all,” said Mrs. Halloran.
“Well, we get it they’re due along about the end of August, because the skies are clearest then. Early September, maybe, if it takes longer than they figure now to get here. And the saucers could land right out there on your lawn, see? It would be a good clear place. We’re all going to be right there, ready and waiting, with no metal fastenings and what not, and we figure we go to Saturn where we get translated into a higher state of being, but I can tell you more about
that
as we go along. Anyway, you got to start now practicing, get rid of all metal, and no meat and of course no alcoholic beverages and none of them fancy wines you probably got around here. Mrs. Peterson here is
our
cook.”
“All hope is hopeless,” Mrs. Peterson pointed out, “all striving vain.”
“The
main
thing,” Edna said, “the most important
main
thing, is we got to be ready when they come. There’s no second trip, remember. You miss the first saucer—you never get a second chance. Once that saucer with your name on it leaves, it’s
gone
. And remember they won’t take you if you’re wearing metal or been indulging in fancy wines. They
know
.”
“What do they drink on Saturn?” Mrs. Halloran asked with interest.
“Ambrosia,” said Edna unhesitatingly. “We got it in a message, because Arthur here was asking that very same thing. Now suppose we figure out a schedule of meetings with you folks, and after a couple times you’ll get used to our ways, and then you’ll come out on the lawn with us, and—”
“Where have you been meeting until now?” Mrs. Halloran asked.
Edna sighed. “Right now we’ve been meeting over to Mrs. Peterson’s, except her husband’s kind of nasty about it and Mrs. Peterson figures we better start going some place else, particularly to eat.”
“I am sorry,” Mrs. Halloran said—she was frequently gentle when she perceived that sharpness would be wasted—“I am sorry, but I am afraid that we will not be able to qualify for your space ship. I myself cannot do without my fancy wines, and I believe that my associates—except possibly Miss Ogilvie—use entirely metal fastenings. Miss Ogilvie?”
“Zippers,” Miss Ogilvie whispered, pale. “Nothing but zippers. Everywhere.”
“So you see,” Mrs. Halloran continued, “we shall have to make our own destinies, in addition to which I cannot possibly hope to persuade my little group to leave this planet for another. Perhaps—after you have gone, of course—we may hope to inherit this one. Perhaps we may even come to like it.”
“Well, you certainly don’t expect—” Edna began, but was silenced when Mrs. Halloran held up one hand, regally.
“We wish you a pleasant journey,” Mrs. Halloran said. “We hope that you will be very happy on Saturn, in . . . a higher order of being? Perhaps you will keep us under observation?”
“This earth has no temptations for us,” Edna said stiffly, and Mrs. Peterson droned behind her, “A world well lost, and dire be its fate.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Halloran said. “Mrs. Peterson, good day.”
“Woe, woe,” Mrs. Peterson said, and they filed out, Edna leading and Arthur hesitating briefly to investigate an erotic carving near the doorway of the ballroom. Mrs. Halloran gestured to Miss Ogilvie to follow and see them safely down the stairs, and Miss Ogilvie went quickly, half-backing out and half skittering.
“You know,” Mrs. Halloran said, leaning back in her chair, “I could
kill
Aunt Fanny.”
“Man’s life is but a moment run,” Essex said.
“Essex, stop it at once. You would make quite a good impression on Saturn, I should think.”
Essex made a face. “Ambrosia is not my drink.”
“Something must be done, however. I will
not
have space ships landing on my lawn. Those people are perfectly capable of sending their saucers just anywhere, with no respect for private property. I want all the gates in the wall checked, today. You and the captain had better go. Go right around the wall, all the way. Make sure that no one can get in anywhere—there may be spots where it has weakened, or fallen away. Lock all the gates, and see that they are kept locked. You may put on new locks, if it seems necessary to you. No one is to go in or out without my permission, and I mean
particularly
Miss Ogilvie.”