"Well, what price?"
Clive dragged out all his available coins and counted them carefully.
"Three bob a head by trap. Five, if there's a motor," said Masters. "I talked it over with him. Not a bad chap, Higgins. He knows how to keep his mouth shut too, which is something."
The discussion waned for a while, for each one of the group was busy with his finances. Then all eyes went to Susanne. He was the Crœsus of the party. Never a day but he had money in abundance, the reason being perhaps that his father was a banker.
"Wish mine were," Masters had groaned on more than one occasion. "Then I'd have a few coppers to spend now and again, instead of a beggarly allowance. My Governor seems to think that a chap hasn't need of cash. He rams thrift and economy down my throat till I'm almost afraid to buy even a biscuit."
"Five bob a head," said Bert reflectively. "Is it worth it?"
"Is it worth it?" they shouted derisively at him.
"Ever seen an aeroplane?" asked Clive hotly. "Think of being able to say we'd watched fellows flying. Besides, we might get up in one ourselves. I mean to try."
"And there's the feed," Hugh reminded them.
"Feed? What feed?" demanded Masters eagerly. "Higgins don't include it in his price. I tried to make him. Where's the feed?"