The Girl Aviators Sky Cruise | Page 9

ultimate!" she gasped.
"I beg your pardon?" asked the young man at her side.
"The ultimate! That's my way of expressing what the boys call 'the
limit.' Why, that's Jess and Jimsy Bancroft, in their new aeroplane--the
one Roy built for them. Well, did you ever! Oh, Jess! Oh, Jimsy!"
Peggy raised her voice and shouted. In response they saw the
oil-skinned figures turn, and through the driving downpour came an
answering shout. Presently, across the dripping meadows, the two
figures began advancing. All this time the lightning was ripping in a
manner to make Peggy shield her eyes occasionally. The thunder, too,

was terrific, and the earth seemed to vibrate to its rolling detonations.
"Well, Peggy!" gasped Jess, her dark eyes peering from under her
waterproof hood, as she and her brother arrived at the threshold of the
farm-house, "what on earth does this mean?"
"Yes, give an account of yourself at once," demanded Jimsy. "Roy had
us on the phone. Asked if you'd flown in our direction. We said no, but
we'd take a flight and look for you. In our enthusiasm, we didn't notice
the storm coming up. But luckily, being young persons of forethought,
we had oilskins in a locker of the machine, and----"
"And here we are," finished Jess, shooting a "killing" glance from
under her hood at the good-looking young man at Peggy's side.
"Aren't you going to ask us in?" demanded Jimsy the next minute. "For
hospitality, I don't think you rate very high. We----"
"Well, you see, we are here ourselves without knowing if we have any
right to be," rejoined Peggy. "But come in and I'll explain. First of all, I
want you to meet Mr. Bradbury of the United States Navy. He came to
test the Prescott aeroplanes. Mr. Bradbury, this is Miss Bancroft, and
her brother----"
"Jimsy," put in that irrepressible youth. "Glad to meet you, sir. Almost
as much at sea here as in mid-Atlantic."
Laughing, they all entered the farm-house kitchen, while Peggy hastily
explained the state of affairs there.
"Well, so long as they don't put in an appearance before we get dry, I'm
sure I don't care," said Jimsy airily. "What a delightful old kitchen. It
might have come out of a picture book."
He and the naval officer were soon deep in conversation, leaving Peggy
and Jess alone.
"My dear Peggy," exclaimed Jess, with a smile that showed all her

white even teeth, "what will you do next? Don't you think it's a
bit--er--er--unconventional for one of the foremost members of Sandy
Beach's younger set to be flying about the country with a good-looking
young naval officer?"
"Nonsense," retorted Peggy sharply, "as the only representative of the
Prescott aeroplanes on the ground, I had to do it. If it hadn't been for
this old storm, I'd have been home long ago."
"So should we. What a coincidence we should have met here. Is
this--this----"
"Lieutenant," prompted Peggy.
"Is this lieutenant going to stay long in Sandy Beach?"
"Dear me, no. He is only on a flying visit--no pun intended. He was to
have taken in the establishment of the Mortlake Aeroplane Company
this afternoon. You know, they are in that red, barn-like place, down
the road from our place, although Roy and I only found it out to-day."
"That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Peggy dear,"
said Jess, sinking into an old-fashioned Andrew Jackson chair by the
hearth. "Dad said at dinner last night that he had heard in New York
that a lot of their stock had been floated on Wall Street, and that that
hateful old Mr. Harding was back of it."
"They are actually selling stock?" asked Peggy, growing a bit pale.
"Yes. They have half-page advertisements in a lot of papers, I believe.
Dad said so. But why do you look so distressed, Peggy?"
"Because they must be very sure of the merits of their machines, if they
are going ahead so confidently."
"Rumor has it that their make of aeroplane is the most up-to-date and
complete yet constructed, but nobody knows the details so far. They
have kept that part of it close."

"They are making a bid for the navy contracts, at any rate," said Peggy
presently, after a pause, during which both girls winked and blinked at
the lightning and stared at the red glow of the fire.
"So you said. But you stole a march on them by kidnapping your
lieutenant in this way."
"You ought to give the weather credit for that," laughed Peggy, "but
seriously, Jess, there is no sentiment in things of this kind. If the
Mortlake machine is a better machine than ours, the Mortlake will be
the type adopted by the government."
"I suppose that's so," agreed