There was a whole roast chicken, and tiny dainty lettuce sandwiches—at least a dozen of them. Pears and cherries, and lemonade in a thermos bottle. And a beautiful little layer cake evidently baked just especially for them, though how the cook had managed it, they had no idea. They spread out the paper cloth and attacked the food ravenously.
"It looks pretty desolate around here," remarked Louise, as she nibbled at a chicken leg. "I don't see a house in sight."
"Or a road either, for that matter," returned Linda. "I wish we could get to a telephone—and send a call for assistance."
They ate silently for a while. How good the food tasted! In spite of their distress and worry, both girls enjoyed that lunch.
"Have you any idea what is wrong with the plane?" asked Louise, as she broke off a piece of chocolate cake. "It was all right yesterday."
"Yes. That mechanic at the airport gave it a hasty examination. Funny he didn't notice anything so serious as this.... Louise, do you suppose that Roger could have done anything to it?"
"No," answered Louise, thoughtfully. "No; I think Roger knows what he's about. But I have an idea, Linda."
"What?"
"Do you remember hearing a plane very close to the house when we were playing ping-pong last night?"