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Some of your class came in last spring so as to take up certain studies to fit them for the beginning of the fall work. I presume, from what Madame Schakael says, that your school was a pretty good one, and that you were brought along farther in your primary and grammar studies than some of the others. "However, Rathmore knows her way about.
"Sounds like Dunnan," Hugh Rathmore said in disgust. "He just went kill-crazy. The bad blood of Blackcliffe." "There are funny things about this," Boake Valkanhayn said. "I'd say it was a terror-raid, but who in Gehenna was he trying to terrorize?" "I wondered about that, too." Harkaman frowned. "This town where he landed seems, such as it was, to have been the planetary capital.
"I wish my folks hadn't sent me here," groaned the other. "I'd run away for half a cent," declared the Rathmore girl. "Where would you run to?" demanded her friend. "Anywhere. To the city. I don't care. Pinewood Hall isn't going to be any fun at all, if we can't pair off as we choose."
"Perhaps not. But, Miss Rathmore, I fancy you will have to watch yourself closely to correct a tendency in that direction," observed the Madame, drily. "Now, you may continue your statement." Cora was quite put out for the moment.
Really, a brand new existence had opened for Nancy. Jennie's ready championship of her did much to influence the opinion of the other girls; and the story Grace Montgomery and Cora Rathmore spread regarding Nancy fell rather flat. The Montgomery clique, after all, embraced only a very few of the freshman class and some half dozen or more sophs.
A dozen men clustered around the bartending robot his cousin and family lawyer, Nikkolay Trask; Lothar Ffayle, the banker; Alex Gorram, the shipbuilder, and his son Basil; Baron Rathmore; more of the Wardshaven nobles whom he knew only distantly. And Otto Harkaman. Harkaman was a Space Viking. That would have set him apart, even if he hadn't topped the tallest of them by a head.
"Was that it, Nance?" demanded Jennie, suspiciously. "It it must have been," admitted Nancy. But in her heart of hearts Nancy knew that she had stumbled over the toe of Cora Rathmore's skate. The girl had deliberately thrown her. It made no difference in the result of the race. Nancy could not have won, she knew. But it warned her to look out for Cora Rathmore if she raced again with her.
Then Harkaman and Rathmore and Valkanhayn and Lothar Ffayle and the others were crowding up behind, and more people were coming off the pinnace, and Prince Bentrik was trying to embrace both his wife and his son at the same time. "Prince Trask." He started at the voice, and was looking into deep blue eyes under coal-black hair.
"Say! she 'lets herself out' every time she speaks," growled Jennie. "We all know what she is bluff and bluster!" "Is that so, Miss Smartie!" exclaimed Cora Rathmore, standing up for the girl she toadied to. "Let me tell you that Grace is the most popular girl in our class. Wait till we have election for class president." "I'm waiting," remarked Jennie, calmly.
"Would you be willing to make the trip in the Space Scourge, too?" Spasso would, very decidedly. Trask nodded. "Good. Then we'll be sure nothing crooked is pulled," he said seriously. After Spasso was gone, he got in touch with Baron Rathmore. "See to it that he gets as much money that's due him as possible, when you get to Gram.
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