"I just tried to imagine what I would want most if I were your age.... You know, dear, you're your father's own girl! You look like your mother, but you're much more like me.... A strange mixture...." He was talking more to himself now, for Linda was almost running, pulling him along excitedly. "Feminine beauty—with masculine ambition...."
But Linda was not listening. She had reached the plane now, and was walking around it, enthralled. Touching its smooth surface, to make sure that it was not only a dream. Dashing back to hug her father, and then climbing into the cockpit, to examine the controls, the instruments, the upholstery. If she lived to be a hundred years old, no other moment could hold greater happiness than this!
Her father smiled softly in satisfaction. He wanted her to have all the happiness that he had somehow missed. Money couldn't buy it for him; but money spent for his daughter could bring it to him in the only possible way now.
"You're not a bit afraid?" he asked, though he knew from her shining eyes that his question was unnecessary.
"Dad!"
"And now the question is, who can teach you to fly? Unfortunately, the man who brought it here for me couldn't stay, even to explain things to you—although of course there is a booklet. But I understand there's an air school here at Spring City...."
"Yes! Yes!" she interrupted. "I've been there—been up with one of the instructors. Can we drive over for him tonight?"
"My dear, you can't take a lesson at night," he reminded her. "You know that."
"Oh, of course not!" she agreed, laughing at her own folly. "But tomorrow?"
"Yes, certainly. At least we can see about it. You have to pass a physical examination first, I understand."