“What’s eatin’ you?” Porter growled. “We can’t help it because you’re late for mess. Where’ve you been?”
Siddons and Hampden, not greatly interested in what they felt was some new strained humor on Yancey’s part, pushed back from the table and started for the door, their objective being the French town of Is Sur Tille.
15Yancey waited until they were near the door before he answered Porter.
“Oh, I’ve just been over to Is Sur Tille havin’ a look-see at this new instructor that’s comin’ down here to teach us how to fly.”
Siddons, with his hand upon the door, wheeled abruptly and studied Yancey’s face, trying to discover the jest hidden behind that baffling, masking smile.
“Are you joking us?” he demanded from the doorway, but sufficiently convinced to turn back.
The “Flying Fool” smiled sweetly. “Why, Siddons, I wouldn’t kid you-all about that sort o’ thing,” he drawled. “I saw him myself, in town, ridin’ in a car with the C.O. [[A]] Like as not the Major will bring him in here this evenin’ for a little chin-chin.”
A suppressed growl arose from the other pilots.
“What is he coming here for?” young Edouard Fouche demanded, knowing the answer but anxious to have it brought out in the open where it could be attacked and vilified by all.
Yancey seated himself, tilted his chair back from the table and bestowed another sweet smile upon a room filled with scowling faces. It was a delicious moment–for Tex.