The afternoon passed all too quickly for Linda at the airport, but when she left at six o’clock, she had the reassurance that her autogiro was in perfect condition. She had taken double precaution this time, for she did not want to run the risk of the slightest mishap with this strange forlorn girl in her care.
Her aunt accepted the explanation which Linda offered that evening over the telephone, interrupting her three times to ask her whether she and Dot were surely all right. Early the next morning the girls sped to the hospital in a taxi, to find their little charge bandaged and dressed, ready for departure.
“We’ll fly north along the shore of the lake—or maybe over the water, since you love that, Dot—and land opposite Green Falls for our picnic lunch. Then we’ll fly straight across Lake Michigan to home.”
“Home!” repeated the little girl wistfully. How wonderful it must be to have a home—a place to go to, where somebody cared for you!
But by the time she and Dot had squeezed into the passenger’s cockpit of the autogiro, she was smiling excitedly. She had been too much dazed on the other flight to enjoy it, but now she found it a thrilling adventure. Her head still hurt, but not enough to spoil her delight. How lucky she was, she thought, to have found two wonderful friends like these girls!
“You are not afraid, dear?” shouted Dot, above the noise of the engine.
“Oh, no! I love it!” Her black eyes were shining, and there was even a faint color in her cheeks.
“You have heard of airplanes before, even if you haven’t heard of typewriters, haven’t you?”
The girl nodded, with intelligence.
Conversation was difficult, and the girls relapsed into silence, until Linda brought the “Ladybug” down on the western shore of Lake Michigan, presumably opposite Green Falls, where the girls spread out their picnic lunch. Then it seemed as if all three of them wanted to talk at once.