formal ruff... and the cutest little waxed mustaches. The card read:
DEXTER KURT CUNHA, STK.
I read it, then reread it, then said, "Dexter Kurt Cunha- Are you any relation to-"
"My father."
"Why, I know your father!"-and put out my hand. Ever had your hand kissed? It makes chill bumps that race up your arm, across your shoulders, and down the other arm-and of course nobody would ever do it on Mars. This is a distinct shortcoming in our planet and one I intend to correct, even if I have to bribe Clark to institute the custom.
By the time we had names straight, Dexter was urging us to share a bite of supper and some dancing with him in the roof garden. But Girdle was balky. "Mr. Cunha," she said, "that is a very handsome calling card. But I am responsible for Podkayne to her uncle-and I would rather see your I.D."
For a split second he looked chilly. Then he smiled warmly at her and said, "I can do better," and held up one hand.
The most imposing old gentleman I have ever seen hurried over. From the medals on his chest I would say that he had won every spelling contest from first grade on. His bearing was kingly and his costume unbelievable. "Yes, Stockholder?"
"Dom Pedro, will you please identify me to these ladies?"
"With pleasure, sir." 56 Dexter was really Dexter and I got my hand kissed again. Dom Pedro does it with great flourish but it didn't have quite the same effect- I don't think he puts his heart into it the way Dexter does.
Girdle insisted on stopping to collect Clark-and Clark suffered an awful /moment of spontaneous schizophrenia, for he was still winning. But love won out and Girdle went up on Clark's arm, with Josie trailing us with the loot. I must say I admire my brother in some ways; spending cash money to protect his winnings must have caused even deeper conflict in his soui, if any, than leaving the game while he was winning.
The roof garden is the Brasilia Room and is even more magnificent than the casino proper, with a nightsky roof to match its name, stars and the Milky Way and the Southern Cross such as nobody ever in history actually saw from anywhere on Venus. Tourists were lined up behind a velvet rope waiting to get in-but not us. It was, "This way, if you please, Stockholder," to an elevated table right by the floor and across from the orchestra and a perfect view of the floor show.
We danced and we ate foods I've never heard of and I let a glass of champagne be poured for me but didn't try to drink it because the bubbles go up my nose-and wished for a glass of milk or at least a glass of water because some of the food was quite spicy, but didn't ask for it.
But Dexter leaned over me and said, "Poddy, my spies tell me that you like milk."
"I do!"
"So do I. But I'm too shy to order it unless I have somebody to back me up." He raised a finger and two glasses of milk appeared instantly.
But I noticed that he hardly touched his.
However, I did not realize I had been hoaxed until later. A singer, part of the floor show, a tall handsome dark girl dressed as a gypsy-if gypsies did ever dress that way, which I doubt, but she was billed as "Romany Rose"-toured the ringside tables singing topical verses to a popular song.
She stopped in front of us, looked right at me and smiled, struck a couple of chords and sang:
"Poddy Fries-uh came to town, Pretty, winsome Poddy- Silver shoes and sky blue gown, Lovely darling Podkayne- "She has sailed the starry sea, Pour another toddy! Lucky Dexter, lucky we! Drink a toast to Poddy!"
And everybody clapped and Clark pounded on the table and Romany Rose curtsied to me and I started to cry and covered my face with my hands and suddenly remembered that I mustn't cry because of my makeup and dabbed at my eyes with my napkin and hoped I hadn't ruined it, and suddenly silver buckets with champagne appeared all over that big room and everybody did drink a toast to me, standing up when Dexter stood up in a sudden silence brought on by a roll of drums and a crashing chord from the orchestra.
I was speechless and just barely knew enough to stay seated myself and nod and try to smile when he looked at me-
-and he broke his glass, just like story tapes, and everybody imitated him and for a while there was crash and tinkle all over the room, and I felt like Ozma just
after she stops being Tip and is Ozma again and I had to remember my makeup very hard indeed!
Later on, after I had gulped my stomach back into place and could stand up without trembling, I danced with Dexter again. He is a dreamy dancer-a firm, sure lead without ever turning it into a wrestling match. During a slow waltz I said, "Dexter? You spilled that glass of soda water. On purpose."
"Yes. How dld~ you know?"
"Because it is a sky-blue dress-or the color that is called 'sky-blue,' for Earth, although I've never seen a sky this color. And my shoes are silvered. So it couldn't have been an accident. Any of it."
He just grinned, not a bit ashamed. "Only a little of it. I went first to your hilton-and it took almost half an hour to find out who had taken you where and I was furious, because Papa would have been most vexed. But I found you."
I chewed that over and didn't like the taste. "Then you did it because your daddy told you to. Told you to entertain me because I'm Uncle Tom's niece."
"No, Poddy."
"Huh? Better check through the circuits again. That's how the numbers read."
"No, Poddy. Papa would never order me to entertain a lady-other than formally, at our cottage-lady on my arm at dinner, that sort of thing. What he did do was show me a picture of you and ask me if I wanted to. And I decided I did want to. But it wasn't a very good picture of you, didn't do you justice-just one snapped by one of the servants of the Tannhäuser when you didn't know it."
(I decided I had to find some way to get rid of Maria and Maria, a girl needs privacy. Although this hadn't turned out too dry.)
But he was still talking. "... and when I did find you I almost didn't recognize you, you were so much
more dazzling than the photograph. I almost shied off from introducing myself. Then I got the wonderful idea of turning it into an accident. I stood behind you with that glass of soda water almost against your elbow for so long the bubbles all went out of it-and when you did move, you bumped me so gently I had to slop it over myself to make it enough of an accident to let me be properly apologetic." He grinned most disarmingly.
"I see," I said. "But look, Dexter, the photograph was probably a very good one. This isn't my own face." I explained what Girdle had done.
He shrugged. "Then someday wash it for me and let me look at the real Poddy. I'll bet I'll recognize her. Look, dear, the accident was only half fake, too. We're even."
"What do you mean?"
"They named me 'Dexter' for my maternal grandfather, before they found out I was left-handed. Then it was a case of either renaming me 'Sinister,' which doesn't sound too well-or changing me over to righthanded. But that didn't work out either; it just made me the clumsiest man on three planets." (This while twirling me through a figure eight!)
"I'm always spilling things, knocking things over. You can follow me by the sound of fractured frangibles. The problem was not to cause an accident, but to keep from spilling that water until the right instant." He grinned that impish grin. "I feel very triumphant about it. But forcing me out of left-handedness did something else to me too. It's made me a rebel-and I think you are one, too."