Flying Meteor hadn't pushed them together."
Sally ran to her father. For once she was seriously alarmed. He seemed to be having a stroke. His face went a deep purple and his breath wheezed. "I'll sue him," he gasped. "I'll get my money back. I'll bankrupt him for fraud and conspiracy, for—"
"Wait a minute, dad," said Sally. "You can't."
"Why can't I?"
"You gave him a general release."
For a long moment old Simeon glared at her. Then he fell weakly into a chair and a certain awed admiration came into his eyes. "The dingdasted good-for-nothing! No wonder he sold out so fast and so cheap. He outsmarted me . . . me, Simeon Kenton."
He rose from his chair. "Daughter," he said impressively, "mark my words, that young man will go far!"
But Sally wasn't there anymore. She bad quietly slipped out. She wanted to send a private spacegram of her own. It read:
Kerry Dale,
Planets, Ceres
Congratulations! Keep up the good work!
SALLY KENTON
CHAPTER 4
SIMEON KENTON was in a terrific temper. He paced up and down the confines of his office with short, rapid steps that tossed his deceptive halo of white hair into utter confusion. His mildly whiskered saint's visage was screwed up into unutterable knots. In his tight-clutched fingers was a blue spacegram which he shook violently at his daughter at each choking pause in his peroration.
"Dadblast that dingfoodled young scalawag of a Kerry Dale," he exploded. "Look at this, will you? Of all the impudent, soncarned—I mean condarned—damn it, you know what I mean!"
"I think I know what you mean," his daughter, Sally, admitted demurely. Her eyes danced and secreted understanding, albeit slightly wicked, humor. She loved her irascible father; they might tilt at each other and parry deft strokes for the sheer intellectual joy of the thing, but underneath her slim, proud beauty there functioned a brain as keen and hard as his own.
"You mean that Kerry Dale has turned down your proposition."
Old Simeon glared at her and waved the offending spacegram so violently it ripped in his fingers. "I offered to take him back into my service as a lawyer," he shouted. "I offered to forget that dirty trick he pulled on me about the colliding asteroids that cost me over a hundred thousand dollars. I even hinted that within a year or so he might succeed that dithering ass, Roger Horn, as Chief of my Legal Department. I mentioned delicately I'd tear up that contract he signed when drunk obligating him to eight more months of cargo-toting on my ships."
"Which was very sweet of you," murmured Sally, "considering that the said Mr. Dale bad already wangled a general release out of you."
"Don't interrupt, child," snapped her father. He returned to his grievance—the torn, fluttering spacegram in his hand. "Yet what do you think he had the didgosted effrontery to reply?"
"I have a faint idea; but tell me, anyway."
"He says—confound him—he doesn't want a job. With me, or with anyone else. He's doing quite well on his own; and he expects to do even better. However, if I'd be willing to associate with him as an equal partner in some ventures be has in mind, he might consider me."
Old Simeon paused for breath. His blue eyes glared with baleful incongruity in the mild-mannered frame of his visage. "Me!" he choked. "Me, Simeon Kenton, being offered an equal partnership by a babe in arms, a puling young whelp!" His very beard seemed to quiver and grow electric at the enormity of the thought.
Then suddenly he stopped and grinned. It was an impish, waggish grin. "Not at least," he amended, "until I've licked him and taken him down a peg or two."
"That might take a long time," Sally pointed out. "He won the first round over you, and he might just as well take the second and the third. I think, dad, his proposition isn't such a bad idea at that."
"Not a bad idea?" yelled Simeon. "It's a superlatively atrocious idea! Har-rumph! I grant you he knows law, but he's still
Sally ran to her father. For once she was seriously alarmed. He seemed to be having a stroke. His face went a deep purple and his breath wheezed. "I'll sue him," he gasped. "I'll get my money back. I'll bankrupt him for fraud and conspiracy, for—"
"Wait a minute, dad," said Sally. "You can't."
"Why can't I?"
"You gave him a general release."
For a long moment old Simeon glared at her. Then he fell weakly into a chair and a certain awed admiration came into his eyes. "The dingdasted good-for-nothing! No wonder he sold out so fast and so cheap. He outsmarted me . . . me, Simeon Kenton."
He rose from his chair. "Daughter," he said impressively, "mark my words, that young man will go far!"
But Sally wasn't there anymore. She bad quietly slipped out. She wanted to send a private spacegram of her own. It read:
Kerry Dale,
Planets, Ceres
Congratulations! Keep up the good work!
SALLY KENTON
CHAPTER 4
SIMEON KENTON was in a terrific temper. He paced up and down the confines of his office with short, rapid steps that tossed his deceptive halo of white hair into utter confusion. His mildly whiskered saint's visage was screwed up into unutterable knots. In his tight-clutched fingers was a blue spacegram which he shook violently at his daughter at each choking pause in his peroration.
"Dadblast that dingfoodled young scalawag of a Kerry Dale," he exploded. "Look at this, will you? Of all the impudent, soncarned—I mean condarned—damn it, you know what I mean!"
"I think I know what you mean," his daughter, Sally, admitted demurely. Her eyes danced and secreted understanding, albeit slightly wicked, humor. She loved her irascible father; they might tilt at each other and parry deft strokes for the sheer intellectual joy of the thing, but underneath her slim, proud beauty there functioned a brain as keen and hard as his own.
"You mean that Kerry Dale has turned down your proposition."
Old Simeon glared at her and waved the offending spacegram so violently it ripped in his fingers. "I offered to take him back into my service as a lawyer," he shouted. "I offered to forget that dirty trick he pulled on me about the colliding asteroids that cost me over a hundred thousand dollars. I even hinted that within a year or so he might succeed that dithering ass, Roger Horn, as Chief of my Legal Department. I mentioned delicately I'd tear up that contract he signed when drunk obligating him to eight more months of cargo-toting on my ships."
"Which was very sweet of you," murmured Sally, "considering that the said Mr. Dale bad already wangled a general release out of you."
"Don't interrupt, child," snapped her father. He returned to his grievance—the torn, fluttering spacegram in his hand. "Yet what do you think he had the didgosted effrontery to reply?"
"I have a faint idea; but tell me, anyway."
"He says—confound him—he doesn't want a job. With me, or with anyone else. He's doing quite well on his own; and he expects to do even better. However, if I'd be willing to associate with him as an equal partner in some ventures be has in mind, he might consider me."
Old Simeon paused for breath. His blue eyes glared with baleful incongruity in the mild-mannered frame of his visage. "Me!" he choked. "Me, Simeon Kenton, being offered an equal partnership by a babe in arms, a puling young whelp!" His very beard seemed to quiver and grow electric at the enormity of the thought.
Then suddenly he stopped and grinned. It was an impish, waggish grin. "Not at least," he amended, "until I've licked him and taken him down a peg or two."
"That might take a long time," Sally pointed out. "He won the first round over you, and he might just as well take the second and the third. I think, dad, his proposition isn't such a bad idea at that."
"Not a bad idea?" yelled Simeon. "It's a superlatively atrocious idea! Har-rumph! I grant you he knows law, but he's still
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