The idea was wonderfully attractive. "Of course," suggested Masters, with furrowed brow, "if you didn't know any of them it wouldn't make any great difference. They'd be awfully glad to see you, and——"
"Me, yes," agreed Susanne. "But my friends—well, that's a tall order."
There were signs of dissension at once. "But you'd never be such a sneak as to accept a feed and leave us in the lurch," blurted out Hugh. "If we go, we all go together. If there's a feed——"
"We all feed together," grinned Masters.
"But we aren't there yet," Clive reminded them. "Now, do let's get to business. There's to be a meeting of aeroplanists at Guildford. That's settled."
They all nodded their agreement. Hugh interrupted further conversation for the moment to lift the frizzling apples from the stove and hand one to each of the gathering. "Can't talk without eating," he said. "Now let's get on with it. There's an aeroplane meeting."
"The old firm's going, lock, stock and barrel," interjected Masters, with decision.
"If it can be arranged."
"It can," Clive corrected Bert. "What's to prevent us?"
"The Head! Guildford's out of bounds, in any case. There'd be ructions if a Ranleigh boy were found there."