"Hey, Ern!" cried Bill, waving the letter. "Hear this! My mother is a peach if there ever was one!"
The elder boy laughed. "I bet she says you can fly," he guessed.
"Just that. Listen!"
Bill hastily hunted for the right place.
"'You know, darling' ... no, that's not it," he hastily corrected himself. "Here it is. 'Perhaps I have been selfish in asking you not to try your wings until you are older. Your dad assures me that you are an expert with your automobile and says that there are no age limit flyers. You see, the trouble is, sonny, that it is hard for your mother to realize that you are going to grow up soon. You notice that I say you are going to, not you are growing up. This is a gentle way of leading up to what I want to say about flying.
"'Dear boy of mine, please, please let your promise stand, with this much of a release. If ever, ever there comes an occasion of the greatest importance, an occasion where you know I would approve—and you always do know when I approve—then you may fly. I hope and pray that it will not come, but if it does, you will know how to act. And whatever you do you will know that your mother stands back of you because she trusts in your judgment.
"'I sound like a nobul parent, don't I, Bill dear? Well, I do feel that I am on the safe side, because I cannot foresee any possible occasion for you to go flying off from school. However, if ever you feel that you must, why, you may!
"'Get that nice boy Ernest to teach you everything he can, and if you have to fly, ask him to fly with you.'
"That's all she says about that," said Bill with a happy grin, "but now I feel safe. I don't know why, but I had a sort of hunch that I ought to ask her to let me fly if I had to."
"It is certainly nice of your mother," remarked Ernest, "but I agree with her that there will be very little chance of your finding it absolutely necessary to go aloft in the near future. Of course if you go, I will go along."