It was amusing to find that the train was late, whereas they had bettered their own schedule in the airplane. It arrived at last, however, and Miss Carlton hurried anxiously forward, as usual expecting that something had probably happened to her niece. She was relieved to find both girls well and happy.
"We might as well all go to a hotel tonight," she suggested, "and have a good dinner, and take in a picture afterwards. There can't be any rush about your finding your boarding-house, is there?"
"Only that we begin work tomorrow," replied Linda. "We must be there at nine o'clock for our examinations."
"My, but you are in a hurry!" the older woman remarked. "When I was a girl, fun always came first."
"But it is all going to be fun, Aunt Emily!"
"Still, we might as well have the dinner, and take in an early show," put in Louise. "Miss Carlton would rather stay over night, anyway, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, of course. And suppose I look up the boarding-house tomorrow, while you're at school. You'd trust to my judgment?"
"Oh, Auntie, we'd be delighted!" cried Linda, giving her hand a squeeze. "If you don't mind, it would save us a lot of time!"
The evening, therefore, was spent just as Miss Carlton desired, dining at the best hotel in St. Louis, going afterwards to the most expensive theater in a taxi. But the girls got to bed early, and left a call for seven o'clock the following morning.
The school was so much bigger, so much more organized than the little one at Spring City that Linda felt lost at first. After their examinations they made out a roster with one of the instructors, and here they decided to part.
Louise felt that after all, she wasn't particularly fitted to become a mechanic, and she would rather spend her time actually flying, so that perhaps by the end of the term she might win a limited commercial license. Linda, who had always kept an air-log with thePursuit—a record of her flights and the number of hours in the air—would not need much more time to complete her two hundred hours solo flying that was part of a transport pilot's requirements. And while Louise was taking only the general course about airplanes, Linda would study plane structure and rigging, control systems, motors, and everything that had to do with the repair of aircraft. It was a big program; the thought of it was breathtaking. But, as Linda's instructor informed her, she would go step by step, advancing each day a little.
After that the days flew by all too quickly. The girls liked the house where Miss Carlton had established them, a neat little cottage that was owned by a widow, who lived alone with her two children, and it was near enough to the school for them to walk to and from it each day. They would rise early, eat a hearty breakfast and take their lunch with them, remaining away all day. After supper they were usually too tired to go anywhere; they would sit around the open fireplace in the living-room with the family, Louise reading a novel, Linda continually poring over some book about aviation. Once or twice Ted Mackay flew over to see them, and took them to dinner and to a show, usuallybringing one of his friends with him. But they were too much absorbed to be lonely.
Before they scarcely realized it, the Thanksgiving holiday was upon them, and, leaving their overalls and their flyers' suits at St. Louis, they took off in the Arrow for their first visit back to Spring City.
In the six weeks that had passed since Linda and Louise left for the ground school, a great deal had happened at Spring City. Kitty and Ralph Clavering drove over to see Linda the afternoon that she arrived—the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, to tell her all the news.
"Are you a pilot yet, Kitty?" asked Linda, as soon as she had kissed the girl and shaken hands with her brother.
"No, not yet. So far only some of the boys have passed the exam—and Dot Crowley. Dot can do anything, you know. But I'm getting along fine."
"Lou has her private pilot's license," announced Linda proudly. "But do sit down and tell me all about the club."
"There's to be a dance there tomorrow night," replied Kitty, sinking into a chair. "That's the first thing I have to tell you."
"And before the phone has a chance to ring, I want you to promise to go with me," urged Ralph.
"Why, certainly," agreed Linda. Everything was delightful—and oh, it was so good to be home! "Thanks a lot, Ralph.... But tell me, Kitty, is the club-house all done?"
"Yes. We have seventy-six members, and the most adorable club-house. Oh, nothing pretentious, like the Country Club, but we like it a lot. And we have one plane—a Gypsy Moth. Lieutenant Hulbert flies over twice a week to give the lessons."
"Did seventy-six people actually buy thousand-dollar bonds?" inquired Linda, incredulously. She couldn't believe there was all that wealth in Spring City, and the surrounding country.
"No. Only about twenty. We couldn't keep to that rule. The people who bought the bonds are on the Board of Directors. We let members in for their dues—a hundred dollars a year."
"And do I have to fork out another hundred?" asked Linda, wearily. She had been spending so much money already; she couldn't begin to live on the interest from her father's gift. Of course she expected to use the principal for her course, but she didn't want it to vanish fortrifles.
"I'm afraid you'll have to," said Kitty.
"Well, I'll think it over," replied Linda, slowly. It was amazing, in the few weeks that she had had charge of her own money, what a business woman she had become. "I may not join this year. My expenses are pretty heavy."
"Why, Linda!" Kitty laid her hand affectionately upon her friend's arm. "Forgive me if I seem to pry—but—but—your father isn't having money troubles, is he!"
"Oh, no. It's only that I am running my own expenses now, and I don't want to waste money on things that won't do me any good. While I'm away from home it seems sort of foolish to belong to that club, when I have my own Arrow to fly. Especially now that you have enough members, and really don't need me.... I'd rather sell my bond."
"I don't know whether you could sell it now," said Kitty. "Though of course I'll ask Bess—Bess Hulbert, our treasurer, you remember—when she flies back this afternoon. She has our Moth up at Lake Michigan now."
Linda raised her eyebrows. So this was the way the club was run—for Miss Hulbert's convenience!
"Doesn't she have her own plane any more?" she demanded.
"No. She smashed it. It wasn't any good anyhow. And she might as well use the Moth, because the club members only need it two days a week."
That arrangement didn't seem fair to Linda, for the licensed pilots—Dot and Joe and Harry and Ralph—could fly now whenever they wanted.
Noticing that Linda was not at all pleased with the way things were going, Ralph immediately made her an offer.
"I'll be glad to buy your bond, Linda," he said, "if nobody else wants it. No reason why you should hang on to it if it's no use to you."
"That's awfully kind, Ralph. I'll think it over, and let you know tomorrow night at the dance."
At this moment Miss Carlton entered, smiling genially because Linda was home with her again, and because these nice, socially prominent young people were calling upon her niece immediately. She greeted Ralph and Kitty cordially, and rang the bell for tea.
Nothing more was said of the club during the call, but as soon as theguests had left, Miss Carlton questioned her niece about their earlier conversation.
"I couldn't help hearing you, dear, and I couldn't imagine what made you suggest a thing like dropping out of that flying club. Why, it's the only thing about flying that I ever heartily approved of."
"I don't like the way the whole thing is run, Aunt Emily. It's too much Hulbert. Did you know, by the way, that Louise refused to buy a bond?"
"No, I didn't. But maybe her father didn't have the money at the time."
"It wasn't that. She never even asked him! She said it was all too unbusinesslike—bossed just like politics! She hates Bess Hulbert."
"Louise always did have strong likes and dislikes.... Of course, I don't know anything about the Hulberts, but I do know the Claverings, and anybody that they like must be all right. Besides, your money is safe with Mr. Clavering in back of the club. And you don't need it now for anything."
Linda smiled to herself; she still had said nothing to her aunt of her dream of flying across the Atlantic. The older woman couldnot possibly know how important every dollar would be to her next spring.
But Bess Hulbert was not so unsuspecting. She had returned from her trip while Kitty and Ralph were at Carlton's, and waited in the girl's bedroom for the former to return. While Kitty dressed for dinner, she told her about her call.
The very moment that Bess heard that Linda wanted to sell her bond, she jumped to the conclusion that the other girl was determined to try for that twenty-five thousand dollar prize. Nor was the idea at all pleasant to her. Much as she might belittle Linda's aviation ability in public, she was secretly afraid of her as a rival. The very fact that she took almost a year of her life to study at a ground school, that she meant to qualify as a commercial—perhaps even a transport—pilot, neither of which Bess was, showed how seriously Linda must be going into aviation.
No, Bess did not doubt that Linda was saving her money for this purpose, if she needed that thousand dollars. Fortunate girl, to be able to raise the money thus easily! At the moment, Bess saw no way for her to buy a plane herself,and compete. The club refused to financeher—unless Mr. Clavering would personally back her up. But, worse the luck, that gentleman didn't seem to care for her at all! Probably he was afraid Kitty would marry her brother; in Mr. Clavering's eyes, no poor young man was worthy of the beautiful heiress.
While these thoughts raced through her mind, she had been listening with only half attention to Kitty's prattle about the dance. Suddenly she interrupted.
"I think I'd better go back to the hotel, Kit," she said. "I couldn't stay to dinner in this costume."
"You could wear one of my dresses," suggested her hostess.
Bess laughed. "Too small, I'm afraid. It's awfully sweet of you to ask me to stay, but I really need some rest—after that trip."
"But Bess!" protested Kitty. "Some of the crowd are coming over tonight——"
"I'll see them tomorrow, at the dance—maybe. Tell them I thank them for the Moth, and that I filled her with gas, and paid for her inspection." She started towards the door.
"Will you come here and go to the dance with us?"
"Maybe.... I'll let you know tomorrow.... So long, dear!"
She closed the door, and ran down the steps, knowing that she had not the slightest intention of going to that dance. If Ralph Clavering had asked her, instead of Kitty, that would have been a different matter. But he had invited Linda Carlton! It seemed as if that snip of a girl was going to take everything she, Bess Hulbert, wanted. It was ridiculous! She hated Linda. She even went so far as to wonder whether that were her real name. It would be just like a romantic kid like that to persuade her father to change her Christian name in imitation of a hero like Lindbergh.
Bess hurried back to her hotel, conscious now of the fact that she must do some serious thinking, and that she must do it quickly. She just had to raise some money—or rather, a lot of money! She could never save enough from any foolish little job she might take now. No, she would have to make some, as business men do! If she didn't hurry, Linda Carlton would soon have captured that prize.
"Linda Carlton!" she kept repeating, scornfully. "Pampered daughter of a rich man! It isn't fair! All she has to do is ask her 'Daddy' for thousands of dollars, and he comes across!
"Why haven't I a 'Daddy' like that?" Her eyes narrowed with bitterness. "Well, I suppose I can't help that, but, by heck, I'll be the 'Daddy' myself! Nothing to prevent my going into business too!"
A smile crept over her face, as she saw what looked like a solution to her problem, and she settled down into her chair in her hotel bedroom to work over maps and plans.
Meanwhile Linda entertained no such deep or unpleasant thoughts. It was so nice to be home, that she made up her mind that she wasn't going to worry about a single thing while she was there. Her aunt had bought her some charming new dresses, for the game, for the Thanksgiving dance, for a luncheon Dot Crowley was giving in her honor on Saturday. The whole holiday promised to be so enjoyable, so relaxing after the hard days at school, where she had to concentrate every second upon what she was doing, that she just reveled in the careless freedom of the coming four days. She had learned the secret that many grown people have yet to discover; that good times are sweeter after hard work, just as a delicious dinner tastes far better to the athlete than to theafternoon bridge player.
To add to it all, Mr. Carlton arrived from New York on Thanksgiving day, in plenty of time for dinner. Linda could hardly contain her joy.
"Daddy, are you as happy in your new work as I am in mine?" she asked him, when they were seated at the table, and he was carving the turkey.
"Nobody could be as happy as you are, Linda!" he replied, smiling at his daughter's radiant face. "But I like mine. It's something entirely new to me—and rather fascinating. Besides, it's going well; the stores have practically bought out my supply, and we have to send our agent to Canada for more, in order to fill our Christmas orders."
After dinner he opened his suit-case and took out a lovely bureau-scarf, different from anything Linda had ever seen, so fine that it seemed as if a silkworm, rather than a human being, must have made it. This he presented to Linda, at the same time giving his sister a tea-table cloth of the same exquisite work.
"Oh, I adore it!" cried Linda, delightedly, thinking of her little room in St. Louis, and how the scarf would add to its daintiness. "Howthe girls will envy me!"
"Will you start a trousseau with it?" asked her aunt, hopefully.
"No, Aunt Emily. I may never get married, and I want to enjoy it now. Things like this help when you're away from home."
Her father pinched her ear, teasingly.
"And why not get married?" he inquired.
"The same old reason: I'm too busy."
He laughed. "And to think," he remarked, "how worried I was last summer about that Mackay boy!"
"Ted's all right," was Linda's comment. "But I never did want to marry him—only to have him teach me to fly! He never cared for me that way either—I just happened to be the first girl he had ever met who was interested seriously in aviation.... No, if he cares for anybody, it's Lou."
"Louise!" repeated Miss Carlton, in amazement. Yet she was relieved; she liked red-headed Ted, but he was not socially prominent, and she longed to have Linda make what the world terms "a good match."
"Yes. Oh, nothing is settled, or anything. But whenever Ted fliesover to see us, he brings a boy friend for me."
"And you're going to the dance tonight with Ralph Clavering," was Miss Carlton's satisfied comment.
"Yes, but there's nothing to that, either, Aunt Emily!" protested Linda. And, changing the subject she began to tell her father all about the ground school, and talked of nothing else until it was time to dress for the dance.
Ralph came for Linda about nine o'clock, and, dressed in one of her pretty new gowns, she stepped into his machine.
"What a glorious night it is, Ralph!" she exclaimed, gazing up at the stars. "It's lovely enough to fly."
The young man frowned as he put his foot on the self-starter.
"I did think of it, Linda. Thought how pleased you'd be if I could take you for a ride in the Moth. But as usual—Bess Hulbert got it first!"
"You mean she has the Club's plane again?" demanded his companion. "She only brought it back yesterday."
"I know. It's positively sickening the way she grabs it. Yet herbrother is a decent sort. If it weren't for him, I'd have raised a row before this."
"Where is she going now?"
"Canada, I believe. On the trail of some job. Well, I hope she gets it. Then maybe we won't see her for a while."
"Or the Moth either, I fear!" added Linda. Then noticing that Ralph was extremely irritated about the whole thing, she resolved to make him forget it and have a good time.
The dance was an enjoyable affair—all the more so because it lacked the formality of the Country Club functions. Only the members were present, and the crude roughness of the club-house, with its plastered walls, its long wooden window-seats, its huge fireplace, made everybody feel free and easy. Moreover Linda and Louise found themselves honored guests; everybody made a fuss over them, as if already they had proved themselves heroines. The men were insistent that neither of them dance more than once about the room without an interruption, and the other girls applauded their popularity without the slightest trace of envy. By the end of the evening even Ralph was supremely happy.
The functions that followed during the next three days—the luncheon ofDot's, the dinner-party of Louise's mother, the out-door picnic around a camp fire—were increasingly enjoyable, so that when Sunday came at last, Linda and Louise stepped into the Arrow with a feeling of regret that they must say good-by to all these good friends until Christmas.
The next four weeks at the school opened an entirely new chapter in Linda Carlton's life. Cold weather flying! Figuring on drops in temperature, high winds, sleet and snow! Using instruments as she had never used them before. Practicing landing her plane in small spaces, marked off by the instructor. Learning to repair simple injuries like cuts in the wings and installing new propellers. Never had anything been so fascinating; sometimes, late in the afternoons after regular school hours, she would stay on with Eckers, watching him inspect a motor, or going up in the air with him on a test flight, till she would forget all about supper. By the time the holidays had arrived, he told her he would be willing to have her do some testing herself.
Usually as she sat there, watching him intently, and now and then performing some simple service, she would be absolutely quiet. Butsometimes she talked of the future, of her hope of securing a good job in aviation, of her dream of flying the Atlantic.
Home, social life—even family life—at Spring City seemed far away from her now. It was with a start that she suddenly realized it was December twentieth, the first day of vacation, when she and Louise were expected home. And they had not even bought a Christmas card!
Only once in those four weeks had she met with the slightest accident. It happened early in the month, one afternoon when, flying a school plane, a sudden shower, a veritable cloudburst, came up, and one of her cylinders cut out. She happened to be rather low—only a few hundred feet above the ground—so it was necessary for her to land. Cutting the throttle, she came down into a soft muddy swamp. The wheels touched the oozy ground, the plane ran a few feet and nosed over. But nothing serious happened; the propeller was badly cracked, and both Linda and the plane covered with mud, but she stepped out laughing. Minor accidents like that are all in the day's work!
As each succeeding day had passed, she was gaining confidence inher ability to cope with any sort of accident. And now, flying home to Spring City in the clear morning sunlight seemed only like so much play. She suggested that she turn the controls over to Louise, to add to the latter's flying hours.
They came down in the field behind Linda's house, but Louise refused to stop to go inside with her chum.
"I can run home across the back field by the time you'd have the car out of the garage," she said. "Glad I didn't bring a suit-case—I've nothing to carry but this hand-bag.... So you go on in to your aunt. She's probably waiting breathlessly to see how many broken limbs you have!"
Linda laughed: it was true that Miss Carlton expected an injury every time anyone rode in an airplane. So she hurried into the house through the back door, and skipped into the library where she knew her Aunt Emily would be waiting.
But she came upon a surprise. Her father was standing beside the table, nervously fingering a magazine. Linda knew in a glance that something was wrong; he smiled at her in a queer manner as he kissed her, and Miss Carlton's expression was like a person's at a funeral.What were they both trying to hide?
She looked questioningly at her aunt.
"We can't keep anything from you, can we, Linda?" remarked the latter.
"Please tell me what is wrong, Aunt Emily!"
"Nothing so dreadful. Only—business. I'll let your father tell you while I go to look after the dinner.... You're all right, dear? No accidents?"
"Just fine!" replied Linda, her eyes still sparkling from the fun of flying in that cold, clear weather.
Miss Carlton left the room, and her brother began almost immediately, without even sitting down.
"I guess I never should have tried going into a new business at my age," he remarked, almost bitterly. "It looked like a good thing, though—a novel thing. But conditions arose that I could never have foreseen. I'm—I'm going to be bankrupt, Linda, I'm afraid—unless something happens in the next month."
"Bankrupt!" repeated his daughter, in amazement. "But Daddy, why?"
"I'm afraid you wouldn't understand, dear—or rather, it's no use burdening you with unnecessary worries. Your Aunt Emily iswilling for me to sell this house, to raise some money. I'm only too thankful that you won't have to give up your school—that that's all paid for, and I put the money aside for you."
"But Daddy, you can have that back again—or most of it! So long as the course is paid for in advance, I'll have very few expenses till the end of the term. Only my board—I don't even need clothes."
She had spoken impulsively, but she knew as she said this, that it meant death to her hopes of flying the Atlantic. Yet she did not hesitate; her father's happiness was worth all the prizes and fame in the world.
"And how would you live, after you finish at the school?" he asked. "It's awfully generous of you, dear, but I don't see how I could take it."
"I'm going to get a job—flying. I intended to, anyhow, once I have a commercial pilot's license. Oh, Daddy, please!"
"Well, maybe I will, if I can't see my way clear any other way. But of course it will be only a loan. That is, if the business can be saved." He had forgotten her dream of flying the Atlantic, and she did not remind him.
"I wish you would tell me just what happened," she urged. "I'm sure Ican understand.
"Of course I will," he agreed, realizing her genuine sympathy and interest. "Though there is a mystery about it that even I can't understand.
"I sold all my first order to the stores in New York and Philadelphia and Chicago, as I told you at Thanksgiving, and I had a lot more orders. I even took on new salesmen for other cities, and I sent my agent up to Canada, to the convent, to rush me a new supply. I even wrote ahead to ask the Mother Superior to employ some poor women in the village, and teach them the needle-work—at my expense.
"Yesterday the blow came. My agent wired that all the work had been sold to someone else—someone who paid more than I did!"
"But how could they, Daddy?" demanded Linda. "Didn't they promise you?"
"Well, not exactly. You see I didn't know how well the thing would take, so I didn't have any actual contract. Besides, the Mother Superior probably never noticed the agent—or she may have been led to believe he was one of my men. Anyway, she sold everything. Andhere is the queer part of the story:
"The stores which bought from me became impatient when I didn't refill their orders, and bought from this other manat a lower price! He paid more for the lace-work, and sells it for less!"
It was certainly baffling; Linda tried hard to see it from every angle.
"Had you marked the goods too high, Daddy?" she asked. "I mean so high that this other man could afford to sell for less, and still make money?"
"No, I hadn't. I was taking a very small profit, because I was afraid to make the work too expensive, for fear it wouldn't sell. And there's a big tax to pay, besides, for bringing it into the United States from Canada. No, every way I figure it out, this man must be losing money."
Suddenly he sighed, and dropped into a chair, as if he were thoroughly beaten.
"So you see, dear, there's nothing I can do," he concluded. "It would be folly for me to go on, because even if the convent would sell to me again, I would have to pay this new high price—and lose more money. The best thing I can do is pay my debts—sublet myoffices, if I can, for unfortunately I took a long term lease—and get out. And be thankful I haven't lost more!"
"But Daddy, aren't you going to even try to solve the mystery?" asked Linda, her eyes blazing with anger. "Somebody is just planning to kick you out, taking a loss for a few months, so as to get the business! It can't last. Why not take my money and go on—at a loss—for a while?"
"But I couldn't hold out as long as he could. He probably has a lot more capital than I have, and could afford to play a losing game for a long while, until he had wiped me out, and gotten hold of the trade for himself. He's probably begun already to build up a trade all over the country, while so far I've only handled some of eastern cities—as far as Chicago. No, Daughter, I'm afraid I've made a mistake—I'm not the sort of fellow for cut-throat competition, as they all practice in business today."
"Hold on for a little while longer, Daddy, and—investigate!" she urged.
"And use up all your money?"
"Yes. Why not?"
He placed his hand upon hers, and stroked it gently. Then hesuddenly remembered her proposed flight over the ocean, and stopped:
"But Linda, isn't it your greatest hope to fly the Atlantic?" he asked.
She choked a little, but she answered resolutely.
"I think I'll give that up. There are other women flyers so much better and so much more experienced than I am, that they'll be sure to do it next spring."
He could not know how valiantly she was giving up her greatest aspiration.
"Well, if that's the case," he said, "perhaps I will borrow some of your money, and try to go on. But we will sell this house anyway, and take an apartment. Your Aunt Emily says it's too big for her now.... But stop thinking about my troubles, dear, and go find out about your engagements for the holidays. There's a pile of mail on your desk waiting for you."
Linda dashed off, in the pretense of being interested in her mail, but in reality to get control of herself, to steel herself to the great sacrifice she had just made. She mustn't let her father see how terribly disappointed she was! She mustn't tell him how they had praised her work at the school, how she ranked far above most of theyoung men who were studying! She must get hold of Louise, and stop her from talking.
Oh, the pain of going back to school, and telling her instructor—Mr. Eckers, who was so much interested in her project that he kept it constantly in mind, the better to prepare her for every emergency that might arise when the time came for the momentous trip! The tears came to her eyes, but she fought them back. There was no good in sacrifice, if one had to be a martyr about it. No; she must pretend to be perfectly satisfied over the affair.
She lay on her bed, her head buried in her pillow, fighting for control of herself. The unopened invitations lay in a tumbled pile beside her.
But it suddenly dawned upon her that her aunt might come in at any moment. She mustn't let her guess anything!
Then, like a refuge in a storm, she again thought of Louise. She would go to her right away. With her chum there would be no need of acting. And though Louise would be almost as disappointed as Linda was herself, yet the sympathy would help.
So she hurried and changed from her flying suit into a streetdress, and hiding her invitations under her pillow so that her aunt wouldn't wonder at her lack of interest, she skipped lightly down the stairs, and, calling good-by to her aunt, ran out to the garage for her little car.
She found her chum lying luxuriously on her bed, sipping tea and reading her mail. Impulsively Linda threw her arms about her, and started to cry. It was such a relief to weep!
"Darling!" cried Louise, in genuine alarm. "What is the matter? Is your father sick—or hurt?"
"No, no," sobbed Linda. "Oh, Lou—it's good to cry!"
"Good to cry!" repeated the other girl in utter amazement. Less than an hour ago she had left her in the best of spirits. Besides, it was a rare thing to see Linda in tears.
"Yes. I can't cry at home. Listen...."
And she told the story of her father's failure.
"So it means giving up our flight—for the prize!" she concluded.
"And let Bess Hulbert win!" added Louise, bitterly. "Not without a struggle, you can make sure of that!"
"But what can we do, Lou?"
"I don't know.... Oh, if Dad only had a lot of money! But I'm sure everything he has is tied up in his business.... Linda, why aren't we rich like Kitty Clavering?"
"Yes, why aren't we? I never cared much before. I always thought we had enough to be happy."
"So we did. Till something like this comes along.... We might ask the Flying Club to back us."
Linda only smiled.
"If they can back anybody, it will be Miss Hulbert. But they can't, unless Mr. Clavering does it personally."
"Well, we'll just have to think up some plan. Maybe the school——"
"No, that's no hope, because every flyer there wants backing for something, some race, or some enterprise. No, that's out."
"Just the same, we're not giving up yet!" announced Louise, with determination. "Your father may pull out, or somebody may stop us on the street and take such a fancy to one of us——"
"Lou, you've been reading dime novels!" teased Linda. "There aretoo many good flyers today—good women flyers, too—for anybody to do that now."
"True. But there must be something—some way——"
"If we could only help Daddy in some way," mused Linda. "Find out who the man is who is trying to kill his business, and persuade him to take Daddy into partnership."
"Now you're on the track, Linda!" cried the other girl, enthusiastically. "We'll do that very thing! Hunt the mystery! Why, Linda, we've got over two weeks, and a plane and two cars! Who'd want more?"
"Wonderful! And we don't want to go to all these parties and dances anyhow, feeling the way we do!"
"Righto!"
The girls hugged each other in their ecstasy, and swayed back and forth happily. Then Louise grabbed her invitations, and began to make a list.
"We'll go over our mail and decline everything that comes after Christmas day," she said, in a business-like manner.
"And tomorrow morning we'll go to the stores and buy some of thisstuff, and get the name of the dealer."
"Then fly to Montreal in his pursuit, if necessary!"
"In our 'Pursuit,'" corrected Linda.
Although Linda and Louise were both greatly excited about their plan, they decided to keep it a secret. Once they disclosed it, they would probably meet with all sorts of opposition; Mr. Carlton would consider it foolish, his sister and Mrs. Haydock, dangerous.
So Linda went home and opened her invitations, accepting those that were scheduled for before Christmas, and took an active interest in her aunt's preparations for the great day. There was a small afternoon bridge at Sue's which she could attend, and a moonlight skating party which Dot had planned for December twenty-third, and of course she could go to the big Christmas Eve dance at the Country Club with Ralph Clavering.
Nor was her father's misfortune mentioned again after her first afternoon at home. Mr. Carlton had apparently made his decisions, and wanted his daughter and his sister to forget his troubles in theirenjoyment of the holidays. Everything went on as it had at all other Christmas seasons; even the Arrow remained unmolested in its hangar, and Louise and Linda drove their cars.
It was on one of their shopping tours that they were able to take the first step in carrying out their enterprise. On the twenty-third of December they motored to Columbus and visited the city's largest department store.
Going straight to the linen counter, Louise asked to see a handkerchief like the one Linda was carrying, which she showed to the saleswoman.
"Seven dollars!" she repeated, as she examined it. "I'd have to put it in my trousseau at that rate. And then suppose I never got married!"
"You will," returned Linda, calmly. "But even if you don't, you're sure to be a bridesmaid some time. You could carry it then."
"Your bridesmaid?"
"If I ever need one. Or rather, my maid-of-honor."
The saleswoman coughed irritably; she wanted to hurry the purchase.
"It's the last one we have, Miss," she said. "So if you like it, youhad better take it."
Her words recalled to Louise the purpose of their visit.
"The last one? They're hard to get, then?" she inquired.
"Yes. They are made by French women, I believe—in a convent."
Louise suppressed a smile by raising her eyebrows.
"Imported?"
"I think so. We get them through a New York firm."
"What is the name of the firm?" asked Linda, innocently.
"That I don't know. But if you care to wait, I'll ask the buyer."
"Yes," agreed Louise. "I'll take the handkerchief if you find out the name of the firm."
The saleswoman looked rather puzzled at their interest in the name, but she thought they wanted to make sure their purchase was not an imitation, and she hurried off to comply with the request. In a couple of minutes she returned with the information.
"The name is Carwein," she said, as she handed Louise her package."J. W. Carwein & Co., Importers, New York City."
Linda carefully made note of the fact in her tiny shopping book.
"So our first stop is New York," remarked Louise, as they left the store and went to the garage where they had parked her roadster. "Of course we fly?"
"Naturally. We haven't time for any slower conveyance. Besides, we may need the Arrow for further investigation."
"O. K. But Linda, have you considered snow and sleet? Remember, so far we have had very little experience in cold weather."
"I realize all that. But I've been studying conditions about winter flying, you know, and I have a lot of theory. Of course theory isn't practice, as our friend Miss Hulbert would remind us."
"By the way, where is she? She just seems to have dropped out of existence."
"Probably she has the Club's Moth somewhere, visiting her friends!" replied Linda. "I can't say I miss her. Still, it is funny her brother isn't around. He seemed so devoted to Kitty."
"Maybe he asked Kitty to marry him, and she refused."
"I don't think so. Kitty was so crazy about him at Thanksgiving."
"Well, you never can tell. But that isn't going to worry me," said the other, laughing. "But here is an idea worth taxing your brain with, Linda!"
"Yes."
"I think somebody ought to know just what we're doing, and where we're going, so long as we don't want to give our parents the exact information. It ought to be somebody who could fly to our rescue, if necessary.... I am thinking of Ted Mackay."
Linda nodded, approvingly. Ted was so capable, so dependable, and she knew he would risk his life if need be in an emergency to save them.
"You really think it's necessary?" she asked.
"Maybe not necessary, but prudent. Can't you map out our route to New York tonight, and send him a special-delivery letter? Then we can wire him from New York, if we decide to go on to Canada."
"Yes, that's a fine idea, Lou. Provided, of course, we get Aunt Emily's permission. Daddy leaves Christmas night, and after that I'munder her thumb."
"I'm going to spring it on my family after Christmas dinner," Louise informed her. "Everybody's in such a good humor then, that they probably won't refuse. Besides, we needn't mention Canada. Just say a flying trip."
"I guess I'll do the same thing. And by the way, Lou, let's wire Nancy Bancroft. You know she made us promise to stay with her whenever we flew to New York."
"An excellent plan!" approved her chum, for she liked the girl—a fellow student at the ground school. How much easier it would be to win the older people's permission if they could visit a friend!
Linda, however, did not wish to tell her father about the flight, for fear he might suspect what she was up to, and forbid her. Accordingly, she waited until almost eleven o'clock on Christmas night to ask her aunt's permission. They were together in the library, Linda idly gazing at the brightly lighted tree, Miss Carlton looking over the pile of cards on the table.
"Here's one from Beatrice Evanston," observed the latter. "Did yousend her one, Linda?"
"I don't believe I did," replied the girl absently. She tapped her fingers nervously. It was difficult to begin.
"Aunt Emily!" she finally blurted out, "Lou and I are planning to go to New York tomorrow, if you are willing."
"Why of course," replied the other, to her niece's surprise. "But that's a long trip, and if it's shopping, you can do almost as well in Columbus. Or is it a house-party?"
"Neither. Though we are going to stay all night with a girl from school who lives there. But—we're flying."
"Flying? Oh, Linda, please don't! We're in for a snowstorm, I'm perfectly sure. I do wish you would put that plane away for the winter!"
"I can't do that, Aunt Emily. A real pilot has to fly in all kinds of weather. I really need the experience, and the Pursuit is in fine shape."
Suddenly her aunt put down the cards she was fingering and frowned.
"You can't, dear! You'd miss the Evanstons' ball, Beatrice's coming-out party. Why, it's the biggest thing in Spring City—after Kitty's!"
"But I had already declined that invitation," Linda stated coolly.
"You didn't? Oh, Linda, you wouldn't!"
"But I did. The day I got home. Louise and I both did. We wanted to reserve this whole week—between Christmas and New Year's—for ourselves, so we turned down everything."
Miss Carlton looked absolutely aghast.
"I never heard of anything so queer!" she exclaimed. "When you and Louise see each other every day in the year!"
"But this is different. This is a lark together.... Oh, Auntie, please understand! We loved this last week with you and Daddy and our friends, but this is important to us now. You won't be hurt?"
She came over and sat on the arm of her aunt's chair, her eyes full of pleading.
"Oh, all right, dear," agreed the older woman with resignation. "I suppose it's about as useless to try to keep you out of the air as it would be to keep Lindbergh.... I wish your mother hadn't named you Linda!"
Linda laughed, but she knew that she had won, and, even at this late hour she felt that she must call her chum to tell her the good news.
With sandwiches and hot coffee in their lunch box, and clothing enoughto last them for a week, the girls took off the following morning. The air was crisp and cold, but it did not snow. Snug in their leather coats and helmets, they felt ready for any weather. The engine was running smoothly; it was a joy to fly, especially now that they could take turns at the controls.
In her pocket Linda carried a map which Ted Mackay had sent to her in reply to her letter, so that she found it easy to follow the course he had indicated. Without the slightest deviation, they arrived at their destination late that afternoon.
Leaving the plane to be housed and inspected, the girls made their way across New York to a hotel in the center of the city, where they sent wires to Ted and Miss Carlton and Mrs. Haydock, and changed into street clothing. Then they looked up the firm of Carwein in the telephone book.
"But what shall we say to him?" asked Linda.
"I don't know," admitted Louise.
Impulsively as they had rushed into this plan, they realized thatthey hadn't an idea how to proceed.
"Suppose he won't see us!" remarked Louise.
"He probably won't. If we tell the secretary it is private business, she'll think we want to sell him life insurance, or something."
In that strange hotel room, as they sat looking blankly at each other, they knew that they had not thought far enough. Suddenly they were both tired and hungry.
"Let's don't do a thing this afternoon," suggested Louise. "Just call up Nancy Bancroft, and say we'll be out there right away. She's expecting us for dinner, anyhow."
Linda looked immensely relieved.
They found the girl's home without any difficulty, and were welcomed like old friends. Nancy was one of a large family, and the house fairly buzzed with gayety. There were three other guests besides themselves at dinner, and afterwards a dozen more came in for games and for dancing. It was informal and charming; both Linda and Louise would have liked nothing better than to accept Mrs. Bancroft's invitation to stay until school opened. But that would have meant relinquishing their plan, andthis they would not do.
In an interval between dances, Louise drew her chum into the sitting-room where Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft were quietly reading, and asked the former to give them some help on a mystery they were trying to solve.
"Do you happen to know a man named J. W. Carwein—an importer and wholesale dealer in fine linens?" she inquired.
"Why, yes, I know the firm," replied Mr. Bancroft. "I don't know him personally. Why?"
"Well, we want to make an investigation—on the quiet, if possible," explained Louise. "We'd like to find out where and how he's getting hold of a certain kind of very fine lace-work. He's practically smashed Linda's father's business, and we're trying to discover how he did it."
"From his reputation, I don't believe Carwein goes in for underhand dealing like that. If he is, he probably has had one put over on him. He sells only the most expensive things, and his firm has always had a good name. He'd probably tell you right out where he buys the goods."
"But how could we see him?" asked Linda. "Girls can'twalk right into an office and demand to see the president!"
Mr. Bancroft smiled.
"It's been done," he said. "But I don't think it's necessary. I believe you can get the information you want from his secretary. It isn't likely he'd have anything to hide."
Just as simple as that! The girls could hardly believe it was possible, yet next morning, when they put the advice into effect, they found it good.
The secretary informed them that the goods were _not_ imported, that they were made right here in New York state. An agent by the name of Hofstatter had come into the firm's offices and sold them, assuring Mr. Carwein that they were made by a group of French women in the extreme northern part, near the town of Plattsburg. He said he was a traveling man, and that he would return in three months' time for more orders.
When Louise had repeated this conversation to Linda, they sat looking at each other in despair.
"I'm afraid our trip's been in vain," moaned Louise. "Somebody is imitating the work— somebody right here in New York. Of coursethey can afford to sell it cheaper than your father—with no tax to pay!"
Linda's eyes narrowed. She was not convinced.
"There's something fishy about the whole thing!" she said. "Because if this man Hofstatter didn't buy from the Convent, who did? They had nothing left to sell to Daddy!"
"Maybe he lied to Carwein!" exclaimed Louise. "Anybody can see that my handkerchief is exactly like yours."
"Yes! I think this man Hofstatter has smuggled the stuff into the country, avoiding the tax. That's what I believe!"
Louise jumped up energetically. "Now our job is to trap Hofstatter!"
"You mean to try to find him in Plattsburg?"
"I don't believe he's there—Or any lace-makers, either. We might stop and find out—and then go on to Montreal—to the Convent—and try to catch him, or find out something about him there."
"He probably won't be back for a good while, if he has just bought out the supply," remarked Linda, gloomily.
"True," admitted Louise. "But let's fly to Plattsburg anyhow, andinvestigate. We've gotten along O.K. here in New York. If we can only do as well there!"
"Well, it's only December twenty-seventh. We have plenty of time before school starts again."
"Now to send Ted a night-letter!" Louise reminded her chum. "New York to Plattsburg—Plattsburg to Montreal—Montreal to the Convent, with the time figured as closely as possible, and a telegram to him each night if we are safe."
"Righto! We'll stay all night at Plattsburg tonight. And we ought to be at the Convent tomorrow—December twenty-eighth."
When Linda and Louise came downstairs in their flying suits, ready to start for Plattsburg, they saw it was snowing. Mrs. Bancroft, entering the living-room with a thermos bottle of coffee, immediately assumed that they would stay with her for another day.
"You girls have never flown in a snowstorm, have you?" she asked.
"No, but we have to begin sometime, Mrs. Bancroft," replied Linda, cheerfully. She was anxious to be off; the flight promised to be a wonderful adventure.
"I don't see any reason why you should ever have to fly in bad weather," remarked the older woman. "There are so many beautiful days."
"But when we are commercial pilots, we'll have to," Linda explained. "So we might as well get used to it."
"You don't mean that you expect to take a regular paid position in aviation after you graduate, do you?" she demanded, in amazement.
"Yes. Rather!"
"You young girls certainly are marvelous! I suppose you'll put the idea into Nancy's head too.... Well, if there's no use urging you to stay, I think you had better make your start. You don't want to risk flying after dark."
"Linda's even done that," boasted Louise.
Hearing the taxi, which was to take them to the airport, they bade a hasty farewell and departed.
"You're not afraid, are you, Linda?" inquired Louise, as they sped across New York City.
"Not a bit! Only I wish we had as good directions for finding Plattsburg as Ted gave us to follow coming here. It makes it so much easier."
"Maybe we'll find a letter or a wire at the airport," surmised Louise.
What they found, however, was far better than either. Standing beside the Arrow, which had been pushed out in readiness for the flight, was Ted Mackay himself, grinning as usual.
"How do you happen to be here, Ted?" cried Louise, as she jumped out of the taxi.
"I was as far east as Washington yesterday," the young mantold her. "And I thought it would be nice to see you."
"Better than nice," laughed Linda. "Most helpful!"
"Come into the hangar where it's warm," advised Ted, "and we'll figure everything out."
As soon as they were within the shelter of the big building, he reached into his pocket and brought out a map.
"This is your best course," he said. "I've indicated a lot of landings, in case you need them—for it will be impossible to see the ground if this snow keeps on, so you must watch your mileage. Perhaps, though, you'll fly into clearer weather as you go north.
"Look out for Lake Champlain, then you'll know you're right. It's probably frozen over now."
He handed Linda the map, together with his Washington address, where he said he would be stationed for several days, and where he would expect their telegrams.
"One tonight from Plattsburg," he reminded them. "One tomorrow from Montreal—after you get back from that Convent. You better stay over a day at Montreal and have your plane inspected. Even at that,you ought to get back to Spring City the day before New Year's."
"And then we can go to the dance!" exclaimed Louise. "That will delight your Aunt Emily, Linda!"
But Linda was not thinking about social events. Her mind was entirely occupied with her plane and her flight.
"This map is marvelous, Ted," she said, after she had examined it closely. "And how about the Pursuit? Did you give her the once-over yourself? Of course I know the airport made the inspection."
"I did, too. She's absolutely O.K. You have nothing to worry about, except the weather. I want you to make me just one promise, Linda."
"Yes?"
"You won't fly any longer than you have to through sleet and hail. If ice forms on your wings and propeller, you'll have a tough job. Even the old, experienced pilots—Army men—hate it, and avoid it whenever they can. If it starts, make a landing as soon as possible.... Yes, one other thing: When you get to Montreal, make careful inquiries about the location of this Convent—about the land around it, I mean. They can tell you all about it at the airport, and if there isn'ta good big space, don't attempt to go there in the Pursuit. Take a taxi or a train."
"Well, I never had so many instructions in all my life!" laughed Linda. "But I'm going to take them all seriously, Ted, and follow them to the letter."
"We think you're an old peach, Ted!" put in Louise. "We'd never be able to get along without you!"
He smiled and held out his hand. "Good-by," he said. "And good luck!"
The girls taxied along the snow-covered ground and rose into the air, where the gentle, silent flakes of snow were falling all about them. The atmosphere gave them the queerest sensation; they seemed to float suspended in the sky. It was like fairyland, a region apart from the world, and they gazed at it in awe. Then Linda climbed higher, until they were well over the cloud line, and the sun shone and the sky was a deep blue.
On and on they flew, now and then shifting controls—first Linda and then Louise, taking turns sipping their coffee in their intervals of rest. Neither cared to eat. It would be more fun to beterribly hungry and order a grand hot dinner at Plattsburg.
The landing was difficult, for it was hard to see when they flew lower. But Ted's directions had been so accurate that they found the desired airport, and came down gracefully. Giving their instructions to the attendant, the girls left the plane and taxied to the largest hotel.
"Do you think we ought to change our clothing before we order dinner?" asked Louise. "I'm simply starved."
"So am I. No, don't let's bother. We're dry enough, when we take off these leather coats. Let's see what we can get to eat!"
Since it was neither lunch nor supper time, the clerk seemed somewhat doubtful, but the good-natured headwaiter, smiling at their aviation costumes, said he would see to it at once. He put them into a little alcove just off the lobby, behind some big plants, where they would not be stared at, and served them a delicious hot dinner, cooked especially for them.
How good it tasted! It seemed as if nothing had ever been so satisfying. They enjoyed every mouthful. Indeed, the warmth of the atmosphere and the food made them feel so deeply contented that they did not even talk. A radio was playing in the reception room, and thehum of voices in the lobby seemed distant and soothing.
But presently, as they were eating a lovely concoction that was called by a French name, and apparently was a sort of glorified fruit pudding, they heard two voices close to them, near and distinct, yet low. They could not see the speakers, but the voices were somehow familiar, and it was not long before they identified them.
"I think you ought to take that Moth back, Sis," insisted the man's voice. "That club may be wanting to use it."
"Calm yourself," returned the girl, haughtily. "You don't suppose any of those spoiled babies would fly in this kind of weather, do you? Besides, I have important business on!"
"Business?"
"Sure. I'm making money, Bob! Get that under your skin. I've got to have it—and I'm getting it."
"So you can fly over the ocean—after that prize?"
"Certainly."
There was silence for a moment, and Louise and Linda looked at each other breathlessly, hardly daring to move lest they reveal theirpresence. So this was where Miss Hulbert was—on business! They waited, hoping to hear more.
"Tell me more about your job," urged Lieutenant Hulbert, voicing Linda's and Louise's wish.
"Can't. It isn't a job.... It's business—and it's a secret.... Oh, not so easy, either. I may be killed, or put in prison. But I've got to have money! And you won't get it for me!"
"How can I, Bess?" demanded the young man, irritably. "I can't work any harder than I'm doing now."
"You know well enough what you could do!"
"You mean marry Kitty Clavering?"
"Now you're talking!"
"Well, I won't!"
"Don't you like her? She's not bad—really quite cute-looking, I think. Now if I asked you to propose to either of those two awful girls that think they know all about flying—you know the ones I mean, one of 'em named after Lindbergh—that would be something else again. But I should think any man could stand a harmless little thing like Kitty Clavering, for the sake of all those millions."
It was all Linda and Louise could do to keep from bursting out laughingat Miss Hulbert's description of themselves. But they restrained their desire, for the sake of the fun of hearing more.
"That's just it!" the unhappy young officer was protesting. "I'm in love with Kitty—too much so to ask her to marry me when I have nothing to offer her."
"You fool!" exclaimed his sister, in utmost contempt.
"Oh, I'll probably ask her, in the end. I won't be able to help myself. I've been staying away from her—sending that other fellow to give the lessons while I was away—but it doesn't help. I'm all the crazier about her.... But get this, Sis—if I ask her, it will be to live on my pay, until I can make more!"
"Then," announced Miss Hulbert, "I have nothing more to say. But mark this, Bob, and remember it, if I come to any accident or disgrace: remember, it is you who shoved me into it!"
"That's utter rot!" he stormed, forgetting to keep his voice low. "Nobody has to get into disgrace, unless they do disgraceful things!"
"Sh!" warned Bess. "You needn't broadcast your feelings and opinions tothe world. No use making anybody suspect me, before it's necessary.... Well, so long! If you ever change your mind, you can wire me at the Flying Club, or at my New York apartment. I shan't be here after tonight."
In another minute they were gone, and Louise and Linda sat staring at each other in silence, too amazed even to speak.
"Poor boy!" were the first words which Linda finally uttered. "To have a sister like that!"
"I'm thinking more about 'poor us'," answered Louise. "From her conversation, I take it that Bess Hulbert is rapidly raising money. Money to fly the Atlantic!"
"So it sounds."
"I'd like to know how she's doing it," mused Louise.
"She said it might bring disgrace," replied Linda, thoughtfully.... "Funny she should be here—in Plattsburg.... Lou, do you suppose she could be 'Mr. Hofstatter'—or rather, Mr. Hofstatter's employer?"
"That's an idea, Linda!" cried Louise, her eyes flashing withexcitement. "Only it seems too impossible. How could she have gotten word of your father's business?"
Linda was silent for a moment.
"Through me," she announced, finally. "Remember the day I showed my handkerchief to the girls, and explained all about where Daddy was getting them? Remember how interested she was—and even knew the name of the Convent?"
"That's right! I do! And she made some nasty remark about making money from nuns!"
"So she did. I was furious.... And the very next day Ralph told me she had gone to Canada in the Moth, in search of a job!"
"It's true! It's true!" exclaimed Louise, jumping up from the table. "No use to hunt Hofstatter now—he's only a pawn in her game—if we are correct in our guess. We must go right to the Convent!"
"Tonight?" asked Linda, doubtfully.
"No, of course not. Tomorrow. And it's clearing up, Linda. Oh, we're the luckiest girls in the world!"