“Sooner or later,” Phyllis echoed drearily.
“You will tell us the minute you learn anything,” Valerie pleaded.
“Of course,” Brent said with an attempt to be cheerful. “And I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. I’m positive Gale will turn up all right. Anyway, I’ll be down again in a few days. Meanwhile, perhaps you can think of something that might help in the search.”
Brent went off to the airport, with an attempt to leave a brightened atmosphere behind him, but his attempt had failed. The others were more mystified than ever about what had happened to their missing member.
“I’ve always liked to solve puzzles,” Carol declared, “but this has me stumped! What on earth could have become of her? If everyone has seen her picture in the papers as he says, why haven’t we heard something?”
“You know the old saying ‘No news is good news’ so maybe we should be glad we haven’t heard anything,” David put in.
“But the suspense is terrible,” Janet sighed. “I have to write a composition for English tomorrow—I think I will make it the ‘Dangers of Flying.’”
“Flying is no more dangerous than driving an automobile,” Peter put in scornfully. “Airplanes have saved hundreds of lives. Look at the time that aviator flew that serum to those Eskimos up north.”
“And the time last winter when airplanes dropped food to people stranded in their homes by blizzards and unable to drive miles to the nearest town for food,” from David.
“They are as safe as anything else nowadays,” declared Phyllis.