“Of course not,” she assured him. “You know, Mr. Eckert, that that sort of thing doesn’t appeal to me—publicity and acting—and all that stuff. I’m happiest when I’m up in the skies with nobody else but my chum—Miss Crowley.”
“That is what I always thought,” he said. “So I must say I was somewhat disappointed in the news when I heard it.”
Linda smiled. Mr. Eckert had always understood her, and admired her—not as Ralph Clavering admired her, for her beauty and feminine charm,—but for her knowledge and skill as a flier.
“Then you might consider my proposition after all?” he inquired, hopefully.
“Yes, indeed. If you are willing to make it more or less temporary. I mean I could sign up for the duration of one course—say until next spring. The other offers I have had have all been so far away, that I’d rather accept yours, so that I could fly home every week-end. My aunt is practically alone, you see, for my father’s business is in New York.”
“That’s splendid, Linda!” he cried, and he proceeded to go into detail about the work that he wanted her to teach. Dot sat back in her chair, gazing out of the window, and vainly trying to suppress a yawn.
“I’m afraid, Mr. Eckert,” remarked Linda, when the former had finished his explanation, “that I may not be back in time to start when the school opens. Would you be willing to wait for me—till, say, the first of October? I ought to be here by then, though you never can tell.”
At these words Dot sat up and laughed.
“You surely can’t!” she agreed, heartily. “We have a habit of not showing up when we’re expected, Mr. Eckert—when Linda goes on her wild adventures.”
“Oh, but this is different,” put in Linda, sincerely believing that there were no wild adventures in store for her this time. “Hollywood isn’t like the Okefenokee Swamp. It’s the most civilized spot in the world.”