"It would be too bad, of course—but I could buy you another plane. We couldn't buy another daughter, could we, Emily?" he asked his sister.
"Don't talk about it!" begged Miss Carlton, miserably.
"All right," agreed Linda. "Suppose Daddy tells me what he would like to do this afternoon—after I try on the costume."
"Sure you don't want to be with your young friends?" he inquired.
"I'll have all the rest of the summer for them."
"Then let's go for a little drive in your roadster. Out to some pretty road. And come back in time to go swimming with your crowd."
"I'd love that, Daddy!" she exclaimed. Then, turning to her aunt, "But is my car here, Aunt Emily? Did Thomas bring it up all right?"
It was strange indeed, that she had forgotten to ask about it. Always before she had driven it herself, while Thomas, the chauffeur took charge of her aunt's limousine. This time he had hired a friend to drive the other, and brought hers himself.
"Yes, he drove it up yesterday," replied her aunt.