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the Faths behind, and who knows when they would see him again. It was a dreadfully lonely thought!
    Althea sighed. Clearly she and Hilyer must use their best persuasive powers to guide Jaro along the academic career they had planned for him at Thanet Institute.

Three
1
    Dame Wirtz made a final attempt to enlist Jaro into the Junior Service League. “It is the best possible training! And enormous fun! When you march in formation, the slogan that you shout is:
‘UP THE LEDGES! UP!
    DON’T BE A NASTY PUP!
    BUMBLE DE BUMBLE! HOOT HOOT HOOT
    AND A TWEAK IN THE PUNGLE
    FOR SCHMELTZERS.’
    There! Doesn’t that sound like fun? No? Why not?”
    “It’s a bit noisy,” said Jaro.
    Dame Wirtz sniffed. “It’s ever so jolly, swinging along in formation! The secret password is ‘comporture.’ ”
    “Then what happens?”
    “It’s a surprise!”
    “Hm. What kind of surprise?”
    Dame Wirtz smiled bravely. “A bit of this, a bit of that.”
    Jaro shook his head. “Only an idiot would want to find out.”
    Dame Wirtz pretended not to hear. “A wonderful magic stuff is comporture, and your stringbooks make it all so easy. You record favors you have done for others against the favors you have received: the so-called ‘Outs’ and ‘Ins.’ Their ratio is your social buoyancy, and you must keep a careful balance sheet. This will help you with your strivings, and you’ll be up the Persimmons in a trice! Just like Lyssel Bynnoc, who stormed up through the League like a spanked baboon. Her father is a Squared Circle. That lubricates many a tight corner and Lyssel is quite a charming creature, but the fact remains that she’s a striver and has comporture in her bones.” Dame Wirtz giggled. “It is said that in frosty weather when Lyssel breathes, instead of steam she blows two plumes of comporture from her nostrils.”
    Jaro raised his eyebrows. “Surely that can’t be true!”
    “Probably not, but it only goes to demonstrate the temper of her striving.”
    Jaro was aware of saucy golden-haired Lyssel Bynnoc, though she had never so much as looked in his direction. Lyssel was already flirting with older boys of upscale clubs and had no time to waste on nimps. Jaro asked: “What about Skirlet Hutsenreiter?”
    “Aha! Skirlet was born a Clam Muffin and already commands the full scope of prestige, above all the other aristocracy of Gallingale! Skirlet need never fret about status, and she might not in any case, since she does everything with great éclat.” Dame Wirtz looked away. “Well, well, we can’t all be Clam Muffins like dear little Skirlet, and now we must see about enrolling you in the Junior Service League. Naturally, you’ll start in the Buddykins Ward.”
    Jaro hung back. “I have no time for such things!”
    Dame Wirtz gave an incredulous caw. “That is absurd! You are almost as bright as Skirlet; she rolls through her schoolwork as if it were a dish of ripe cheese, and then she has time for every caprice that enters her mind. How do you spend your spare time?”
    “I study manuals of space mechanics.”
    Dame Wirtz threw her arms into the air. “My dear boy, you mustn’t waste your time with fantasy!”
    Jaro made his escape as gracefully as possible.
    About this time Skirlet was transferred into Jaro’s class, and whether they liked it or not, the quality of their work was constantly compared. It soon became evident that Jaro surpassed Skirlet in basic science, mathematics and technical mechanics; also he was rather more deft at draughting, where his hand was fluid and accurate. Skirlet excelled in language, rhetoric, and musical symbolism. They did equally well in Gaean history, the geography of Old Earth, anthropology and biological science.
    Skirlet was surprised to find herself inferior to anyone, in anything, to any degree whatever. For several days her conduct was subdued. In anyone other than a Clam Muffin, it might have been said that she sulked. At last she shrugged. The circumstances,