A bright red sports-roadster, loaded to overflowing with young people of both sexes, turned in at the gate of the Carltons’ home in Spring City and whizzed up the driveway to the porch steps. As it stopped at the entrance, Dorothy Crowley, who was Linda Carlton’s best friend, disentangled herself from the group and jumped out.
“Hello, Miss Carlton!” she called to the middle-aged woman sitting on the porch. “Any news of the world’s most famous aviatrix?”
“You mean Linda?” returned Miss Carlton, smiling.
Dot nodded.
“Of course. Have you heard from her?”
“No, I haven’t, Dorothy. But then, I didn’t expect to. You know, of course, that Linda has set her heart on taking some sort of flying position, and she had several prospects to interview.”
“But she’s been gone a week!” protested Dot. “This is the twenty-second of September.”
“I know, but she expected to be gone a week. She ought to be home some time today. If she doesn’t come, I think she will let me know.”
“Well, we miss her just fearfully,” concluded Dot. “And we want to hear the very minute she gets back. You know Ralph leaves for college tomorrow, and he’s all hot and bothered about going off without even a good-bye from Linda.”
Miss Carlton smiled at the mention of Ralph Clavering’s devotion to her niece. The young man, whose father happened to be the wealthiest citizen of Spring City, made no attempt to keep his admiration for Linda a secret.