She glanced up to study the elusive Mrs. Elizabeth Heath. The woman did have quite an air of authority, of poise. She was well-dressed and held her gray head high. Beside her, Lucy seemed very young and unsure of herself.
“Can I help you?” the girl asked Vicki. She was a warmhearted girl, as Jill had said. “Not that I know about plane engines—”
“I don’t know an awful lot about them myself,” Vicki said pointedly.
“Then how do you expect to make the repair?” Mrs. Heath said in exasperation. “I think you had better call up a garage—you may use my telephone—or an airport, and have them come and get you out of here.”
The girl said, “I’m afraid there isn’t a garage within miles of here, Mrs. Heath. And no airport.”
Mrs. Heath fumed while Vicki poked in the engine. Vicki straightened up.
“This engine is rough from carburetor trouble. Or there may be a little water in the engine. Whatever it is, I don’t want to fly at night with a rough engine and be forced down in the dark.”
There was a silence. Then Mrs. Heath said, “No, I suppose you can’t be expected to take such a risk.”
Lucy asked, “Can’t she possibly stay here overnight, Mrs. Heath?”
“Well, I don’t wish to appear harsh, but I really hadn’t counted on having a guest. We were planning to do some work this evening, you know.”