Linda Carlton's Ocean Flight

"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 the young 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 street dress, 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 are too 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 this stuff, and get the name of the dealer."

"Then fly to Montreal in his pursuit, if necessary!"

"In our 'Pursuit,'" corrected Linda.

Chapter VII

On the Trail

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 their enjoyment 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, you had better take it."

Her words recalled to Louise the purpose of their visit.

"The last one? They're hard to get, then?" she inquired.