"Come and get your coffee," Sally called, but there was an edge of apprehension in her voice.
Bart reached out to pick up the toy, and instantly Sally was at his side. "Leave that alone!" she said sharply.
"Something special?" he asked, trying to look surprised.
"Yes," she said shortly. "Something special; now come drink your coffee if you want it, and leave that alone."
Bart turned back to the table. That little figurine was just the right size. It went with the rocket all right. And it had the same kind of fine workmanship in it. Bart wondered how you started this kind of a showdown.
"You're certainly acting peculiar, Bart Mandell!" Sally said.
He looked straight into smouldering brown eyes. "You're being a little strange yourself," he told her. "I'll tell you what I think," he said bluntly. "I think they're looking for that Martian in the wrong place."
"What are you talking about?" She was very haughty.
"About your new toys; that's what I'm talking about!"
"There is no need to scream at me," she said icily. "I can hear you perfectly . . ."
"Well, then, listen a while," he interrupted, lowering his voice. "That rocket you've got in the living room—and this little gadget here on the refrigerator—I want to know where you got them."
"I don't think that's any of your business!"
Bart got up and advanced a step, towering over her.
"Sally," he said angrily, "this is a serious matter. The United States Government is involved in this. If you can prove to me where you got those things, I'll apologize or anything else you want. But you have to answer me."
"Bart, you've gone out of your head! If you want to know, nobody gave them to me! I got them for myself!"
"Where?"
"If you were the last man on Earth, I wouldn't tell you! Now will you leave politely before I ... Bart, stop that!"
Halfway to the refrigerator he stopped and turned back.
"Sally, can you honestly say to me that you don't know anything about the Martians?"
"What in the world would I know?" All wide-eyed innocence, but just a bit too much of it, after being so angry.
"Just where you've got him hidden, that's all you'd know!" Now he lost his temper. "And why, that's what I don't understand. Why? Good Lord, Sally, I could stand anything but this! I wouldn't mind so much if you were seeing some other man behind my back. But a Martian! Sally, have you no discrimination? Don't you realize he's dangerous? Don't you understand that the whole world is looking—"
Sally laughed.
It was the wrong thing to do. She laughed, and pointed a shaking finger at Bart, and choked out, "Oh, you look so funny." She subsided a little, while he stood rooted to the floor, keeping himself in control. "Bart, you look so funny when you get mad. Now let's be sensible and stop fighting. Let's go out on the porch and talk a while, and then . . ."
He whirled around and reached out. Just before his hand closed on the miniature space suit, he heard her say, "Bart, stop! You'll hurt him!" Then he knew he was right.
Captain Connors took some convincing.
The first result of Bart's effort to call him with the news was the arrival of an MP, with instructions to bring in some drunken soldier. The MP came, and saw, and listened. Most especially he listened to Nong Kay, the one-inch high Martian, talking with the aid of his two-inch high metal larynx—the gadget with the knobs and buttons.
The MP went away with his story, and after a while a sergeant came, and went through the routine again. He called the captain.
Captain Connors listened, not only to the diminutive "Martian monster" but also, at great length, to Sally. She explained again how she'd found the spaceship on her lawn the morning before, and took them out to show them the scorched spot where the rocket exhaust had burned away the grass.
It was still too hot to touch when she found it, but she had had no idea what it was. Captain Connors had a hard time believing that; but Bart knew Sally, and he knew it was true.
She'd taken it indoors just out of curiosity, with the help of several thicknesses of potholders. She left it on the hearth to cool off ... and when she came back in the door was open, and the little mannikin was outside, with his voice box.
"He was real cute," Sally told the captain, looking up at him earnestly out of those big brown eyes. "And polite, too; he thanked me for taking him in, and explained all about why he turned off his radio the way he did."
"That would take some explaining," the captain said, grimly.
"Not from Nong's point of view, sir," Bart said. "You see, he didn't know . . ."
"I think you can let the young lady tell her own story." The captain looked at Sally again, and Bart began to burn. Sally, flushed and excited, was all too easy to look at.
"Well, the poor little fellow!" she said indignantly. "How would you feel if you suddenly found all the folks you were going to visit were—well hundreds of times bigger than you were? You might get scared, too! So he landed in the woods, and . . . Bart, you better explain. I'm not sure about the rest of it."
Bart managed not to smirk at Captain Conners. As simply as he could, he relayed what Nong Kay had told him about taking a quick and frightening look around at the fierce beasts—squirrels!—and giant trees, and then hopping over to Sally's lawn, in the middle of a human settlement. Then, when Sally told him how everyone was hunting for him, he begged her to keep him hidden for a few days, until he had a chance to find out what he was getting into. It was all that simple.
The captain listened, not too patiently, nodded his understanding, and went away, after shaking Sally's hand just one moment too long. Nong Kay and the "model" rocket went, too, on the seat of the Army car—right next to the captain. Bart, not having received orders to do otherwise, stayed.
He put his time to good use, too.
Captain Connors came back, minus his small chum. He rang the bell, and stood on the porch, hat in hand, his eyes so fully occupied with Sally in the doorway, that he never even noticed Bart standing behind her in the hall.
"We're having an official welcoming for the little fellow," the captain said, "and I thought perhaps you ought to be there ma'am. I'd be glad to escort you . . ."
Bart Mandell was not a jealous man, but he knew when a good thing was going too far . . . and he knew it was wise to put one's foot down early.
"That's all right, sir," he said as respectfully as possible, pulling the door open a little farther. "Anywhere my brand-new fiancee goes, I will be delighted to escort her myself."