"I've heard of them," she replied. "How long are they staying?"
"Just over night. Going over to Montreal in the morning, I believe."
Bess was silent a moment, thinking rapidly.
"I guess I'll stay here over night, after all," she concluded. "Night flying isn't so good, if you don't have to do it."
"Wise young lady!" observed the clerk. "If you want to meet these girls, they're still out there in the dining-room, eating. I know flyers always like to get together—for 'ground flying,' as Lindbergh calls it."
"I don't care much about meeting those particular girls," replied Bess, scornfully. "They're only beginners—I dare say this is their first real flight. Yet the way they talk you'd think they had been pilots for years.... No, thank you. I guess I'll go up now, and take a rest. Will you have my dinner sent up to my room?"
She disappeared into the elevator, and when Linda and Louise came out of the alcove, they thought she had gone back to New York. When they stopped at the desk the clerk made no mention of "Miss Smith" because she had spoken so contemptuously of these young girls.
"What's your idea of a way to spend our time here?" asked Louise, as they unpacked their bags. "It's only five o'clock; we can't go to bed yet."
"Let's look for 'Hofstatters' in the phone book," suggested Linda. "Just for fun, because we probably shan't learn anything, but it wouldn't do any harm."
"O.K. with me. I'm glad his name isn't Smith or Jones, then it wouldn't be so easy."