Dinner was a hurried, hap-hazard affair. Gale’s parents and Brent were eager to be off to the airport. He told them again of his finding and by that time they were ready to leave.
Upon coming out to the porch they discovered Phyllis in woolly coat and beret with a small bag at her side sitting on the top step.
“Where do you think you are going?” Brent demanded.
“With you, please, mayn’t I?” Phyllis begged. “I’ve told my Aunt I’m going and she didn’t stop me. Please take me, I want to see Gale.”
Brent looked at the Howards and back to Phyllis.
“Oh, well, come along,” he said gruffly.
They climbed into the Howards’ automobile and five minutes later picked up the grey-haired family doctor who had known Gale since she was three. He had helped her through every sickness but nothing as serious as this. It did not take long after that to reach the airport.
The cabin plane they were to use was standing on the field, the motor turning over rhythmically, the propeller whirring. Stubby helped them into the plane and when Brent had taken his seat up in the nose of the ship beside the pilot they were off.
In Canada they landed and went immediately to a hotel where they were to spend the night. Brent had thought it best to wait until the following morning before driving to the little village from where they would go to Bouchard’s cottage. He was a little dubious as to the outcome of their trip. He hoped fervently, as did the others, that Gale would recognize them but he had his doubts.
The next morning they breakfasted early and entered the car in which they were to drive to the little French-Canadian village. The driver of the car was the same one who had driven Brent on his previous trip. Though he was not fond of the man or his companionship Brent had hired him because he already knew the way.