lief in Merlin. He started to say something like that, and then
thought better of it.

Yes, Virginia, there _is_ a Santa Claus.

V

The meeting was at the Academy; when Conn and his father arrived, they
found the central hall under the topside landing stage crowded. Kurt
Fawzi and Professor Kellton had constituted themselves a reception
committee. Franz Veltrin was in evidence with his audiovisual
recorder, and Colonel Zareff was leaning on his silver-headed sword
cane. Tom Brangwyn, in an unaccustomed best-suit. Wade Lucas, among a
group of merchants, arguing heatedly. Lorenzo Menardes, the
distiller, and Lester Dawes, the banker, and Morgan Gatworth, the
lawyer, talking to Judge Ledue. About four times as many as had been
in Fawzi's office the afternoon before.

Finally, everybody was shepherded into a faculty conference room;
there was a long table, and a shorter one T-wise at one end. Fawzi and
Kellton conducted them to this. Both of them were trying to preside,
Kellton because it was his Academy, and Fawzi ex officio as mayor and
professional leading citizen, and because he had come to regard Merlin
as his own private project. After everybody else was seated, the two
rival chairmen-presumptive remained on their feet. Fawzi was saying,
"Let's come to order; we must conduct this meeting regularly," and
Kellton was saying, "Gentlemen, please; let me have your attention."

If either of them took the chair, the other would resent it. Conn got
to his feet again.

"Somebody will have to preside," he said, loudly enough to cut through
the babble at the long table. "Would you take the chair, Judge Ledue?"

That stopped it. Neither of them wanted to contest the honor with the
president-judge of the Gordon Valley court.

"Excellent suggestion, Conn. Judge, will you preside?" Professor
Kellton, who had seen himself losing out to Fawzi, asked. Fawzi threw
one quick look around, estimated the situation, and got with it. "Of
course, Judge. You're the logical chairman. Here, will you sit here?"

Judge Ledue took the chair, looked around for something to use as a
gavel, and rapped sharply with a paperweight.

"Young Mr. Conn Maxwell, who has just returned from Terra, needs no
introduction to any of you," he began. Then, having established that,
he took the next ten minutes to introduce Conn. When people began
fidgeting, he wound up with: "Now, only about a dozen of us were at
the informal meeting in Mr. Fawzi's