The girl pulled open the bag and took out a letter. It bore the same address as that which had been written on the label.
Slowly she tore off the end of the envelope.
There was a single sheet of paper written in a boyish hand. Without any preliminary it ran:
"A sairgeant-pilot, feelin' sair, A spitefu' thing may do, An' so I come to you once mair That I may say—an' true— As you looked doon on me ane day, Now I look doon on you!
"You, fra your height of pride an' clan Heard your high spirit ca', An' so you scorned the common man— I saw yeer sweet face fa'; But, losh! I'm just that mighty high I can't see you at a'!"
It was signed "T" and the girl's eyes danced with joy. She shaded her eyes and looked up. The tiny airplane was turning and she waved her handkerchief frantically.
"A friend of yours?" asked the superintendent with ominous politeness.
"Ye-es—it's Tam, Mrs. Crane—I ran into him—he ran into me yesterday—"
"Tam?" even the severe superintendent was interested, "that remarkable man—I should like to see him. Everybody is talking about him just now. Was it a private letter or an official message from the aerodrome?"
"It was private," said the girl, very pink and a note of defiance in her voice, and the superintendent very wisely dropped the subject.