"You have?" he repeated, smiling. "Well, first of all I want to tell you that I am exceedingly proud of your courage and pluck up there on the border, and in Canada, and that I think you have proved your ability to take care of yourself in a plane."
"Daddy!" she exclaimed, in surprise. "I was afraid you and Aunt Emily would say I could never fly again! After all the anxiety I caused you."
"That is what your aunt would like to say—but I feel differently. What happened was due to no fault or carelessness of yours, no lack of skill on your part. A less able pilot would have been killed, I am sure."
"It's awfully sweet of you to say that!"
"Well, I mean it. I'm convinced now that you have a right to go on with aviation. And I am willing for you to order your plane for the ocean flight."
A thrill of emotion ran through Linda, so intense that she could not speak. Clasping his arm tightly with both her hands, she told him in the only way she could of her great gratitude.
Then she remembered his business.
"You won't need the money, Daddy?" she asked, after a moment.
"No—not now that I feel sure that your trip saved me, and that this unfair competition will cease. But just to make sure, I'll go to Canada tomorrow, and visit the Convent myself. I'll wire you results."
"I think," she said slowly, with tears dimming her blue eyes, "that you are the most wonderful father a girl ever had."