"Bill explained the procedure to me on our way up here this afternoon. But what are we going to do for a plane?"
"Bill has some scheme, I believe."
"Oh, I know," she decided. "Bill shall pick me out a nice little plane and--"
"I shall pay for it," said her father grimly. "Nothing doing. When you have won your wings--well--we shall see. Until then, you and Bill will have to figure without financial help from your fond parent."
"That's fair enough," agreed Mr. Bolton.
"O.K. with me, too," echoed Bill. "I happen to have an old N-9, a Navy training plane, down at the shipyard near the beach club, that will do nicely. I was down there this afternoon having her pontoon removed. I want to equip her with landing gear so I can house her up here. The Amphibian uses up too much gas to go joy-hopping in."
A maid appeared on the doorstep.
"Mr. Dixon wanted on the phone, please," she announced, and waited while that gentleman preceded her into the house.
A moment later Mr. Dixon was back on the terrace.
"The bank's been robbed!" he cried. "Sorry, gentlemen, but I've got to hustle down there just as soon as possible."