Mrs. Howell peered furtively through the red-curtain French doors before she let Ginger slip inside. "Oh, Ginger, this so much fun! I feel positively criminal! Are you quite certain the Captain and the Professor can't hear us?"

"Not a chance, Mrs. Howell," said Ginger. She gave her older friend a conspiratorial wink as she hurried to the vanity table and set down the small stack of cardboard-encased record albums she was carrying. "They've both gone off to the clearing with the toolbox and all kinds of other things. Looks like they'll be making so much noise they'd never hear us anyhow!"

"Tools? Whatever are they building?"

Ginger shrugged. "I don't know. The Professor said something about a simulator, whatever that is. I dated a pilot who trained in a simulator once, but I don't think it's the same thing."

"Well, whatever it is, at least it should keep them occupied while we prepare our musical entertainment. And dear Thurston's promised to keep a lookout and warn us in case they return unexpectedly."

"I certainly hope so," said Ginger. "I'd feel awful if the Professor caught me here and I hadn't gotten the bandages rolled like I promised."

Mrs. Howell threw up her gloved hands in a gesture of dismissal. "Oh, pooh! There'll be plenty of time for that, and Thurston and I can gather those silly conch shells in no time at all. But if we don't practice our music, we'll never be ready in time for the party!"

" I'm ready when you are, Mrs. Howell."

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Howell hurried over to the cocophone with its ship's wheel turntable and eagerly turned the crank. "Now here's the first selection I thought you might perform for the program. It's the very thing for a garden party."

"Okay, Mrs. Howell," said Ginger, hands poised on her hips as she prepared to listen carefully.

Mrs. Howell placed the needle on the record. Music warbled from the woofer and tweeter as Mrs. Howell sang in a coloratura soprano:

How many kinds of sweet flowers grow
In an English country garden?
We'll tell you now of some that we know
Those we miss you'll surely pardon
Daffodils, heart's ease and flox
Meadowsweet and lady smocks
Gentain, lupine and tall hollihocks
Roses, foxgloves, snowdrops, blue forget-me-nots
In an English country garden.

She lifted the needle and looked up at the actress, smiling brightly. "What do you think, Ginger? Isn't it delightful?"

Ginger wondered how to put this kindly. "Well, it's…sweet, Mrs. Howell. It really is. Uh…I'm not sure it's quite my style, though. Maybe you ought to sing that one."

Mrs. Howell's eyes shone. "Oh, how splendid! Yes, yes, absolutely! I'll sing all three verses!"

"Three verses?"

"Oh, yes, there's this one about the flowers, one about the birds, and one about the little insects!"

Ginger's eyebrows rose. "A verse about the little insects? Well…sounds perfect for a garden party on this island, Mrs. Howell. We're probably see plenty of them!" She tried hard to keep a straight face. "So…what about the other songs you're thinking of?"

Mrs. Howell flipped through her own stack of albums next to the phonograph. "Now let me see: there's "Early One Morning," "The Foggy Foggy Dew," "Blow the Man Down..."

"I kind of like the sound of that last one," said Ginger with a smile.

"Oh, yes, dear, but I thought we might ask the dear Captain to sing that song. It is a sea chanty, after all."

The smile faded. "Oh."

"And he does have such a fine, light baritone. What about this one?" and Mrs. Howell placed another album on the turntable. In a few moments she launched into,

All things bright and beautiful
All creatures great and small
All things wise and wonderful
The Lord God made them all.

Ginger's hand flew to her mouth as she struggled to keep her composure. It was a close fight, but Ginger was a pro. "I don't know, Mrs. Howell. A song about animals sounds more in Gilligan's line than mine."

Mrs. Howell frowned. "Quite right, dear. And perhaps a trifle too stuffy for our party." She suddenly caught herself and laughed. "The song, I mean, not Gilligan."

"Of course. Oh, I'm sure we wouldn't want any stuffy songs at this party, Mrs. Howell!" Ginger took a deep breath and prepared to take the plunge. "Um…I've been thinking about some of the numbers I know, Mrs. Howell. Maybe they'd work better – at least for me."

"Oh…well, certainly, dear. Do you have the music?"

"Sure!" Ginger's long fingers sorted through the stack of albums on the table. "I was working the nightclub circuit in Waikiki just before we sailed. I brought all kinds of music. Here - " and she slid out a case. "Tell me what you think of this one."

Mrs. Howell moved back obligingly as Ginger fitted the record onto the turntable and cranked the handle. Then the actress lowered the needle and turned, leaning back in a sultry pose.

The minute you walked in the joint

I could see you were a man of distinction

A real big spender

Good looking, so refined

Say, wouldn't you like to know what's going on in my mind?

Her voice stroked the notes, sensual and simmering.

So let me get right to the point

I don't pop my cork for every guy I see

Hey, big spender,

Spend a little time with me.

Just then the French doors flew open as Thurston Howell the Third swept in. "Lovey, my dear—" he began, but stopped short at the sight and sound of the red-headed siren. Ginger fixed him with her glittering eyes and purred in a breathy vibrato,

Hey, big spender,

Spend a little time with me.

The last notes melted into the air as Thurston Howell pulled at his suddenly too-tight collar. "W-well, well. I must say, what an unexpected pleasure! This is certainly going to be a garden party to remember!"

"Thanks, Mr. Howell," Ginger murmured.

"Perhaps it oughtn't to be that memorable," said his wife, folding her arms and frowning.

Ginger sensed her cue. "Uh – well, you choose whatever songs you like, Mrs. Howell. I'm sure they'll be fine. I think I'll just go start rolling those bandages. See you later!" She picked up her records, and like a waft of perfume, slipped out.

"You know, my dear, those young people are enough to make one feel a touch of pity. Just a touch, mind" said Mr. Howell, eager to change the subject.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?"

"Well, just think of it, darling. They're all invited to two Howell social events – not one, but two – and they spend their time slaving away for Professor Van Helsing and Captain Ahab instead of entering into the spirit of the celebration. I mean really!"

"Quite right, darling. It is a pity." Mrs. Howell sighed, fluttering her silk handkerchief. "Though I'm sure the dear Captain and Professor mean well." Then her great eyelashes flew up in dismay. "My goodness, Thurston, you've left your post! You're supposed to be keeping a lookout! What if the Captain and the Professor discover us?"

He laughed. "Have no fear, my dear! We have all the time in the world. Those two are working away like busy beavers off in the clearing. And what's even better – Gilligan and Mary Ann have just returned to camp, and Gilligan's just gone to join them!"

She blinked. "But how is that better?"

Mr. Howell chuckled. "By George, I don't know why the Professor is worried about a natural disaster when we've already got one walking about in a sailor's cap. That boy will have the whole operation sabotaged before luncheon!"

"Oh, that's thoughtful of him," said Mrs. Howell. "I do require some time to practice my poetry recital this afternoon. And then there's the menus to prepare! Oh, my dear," and she sighed sadly, "Do you really think the castaways ever truly appreciate all the efforts we go to for them?"

He shook his head and pressed her hand. "I'm afraid not, Lovey, my dear. It is simply the cross we have to bear."

The lyricists for the songs in this chapter are the following:

"An English Country Garden" -- Traditional

"All Things Bright and Beautiful" – Cecil F. Alexander

"Big Spender" – Cy Coleman