“Rather! And I say, just keep out of sight from our grounds, will you? If Margaret were to catch sight of me she’d have a fit or something. By Jove! it won’t be so slow here as I feared.”
Oliphant spent a quarter of an hour in the air, and when he descended was overflowing with enthusiasm.
“It’s simply ripping, Mr. Dorrell,” he cried. “I may come again, mayn’t I?”
“Certainly,” said Tom, adding with a smile: “On one condition.”
“Trust me, I won’t say a word. And I’ll shut Margaret’s mouth too—if I can. Look here, it seems to me you’d be the best man for that job. I’ll bring Margaret to-morrow—may I?—and when she knows you’re the inventor, and you impress on her that your life’s at stake or something, she’ll be more likely to hold her tongue than if I jaw. Good-bye.”
Tom thought it necessary to inform Mr. Greatorex, in the drawing-room before dinner, of what had happened.
“Hm!” he grunted. “Eton boy, is he? Got any sense?”
“I didn’t examine him,” said Tom with a laugh. “I thought him quite a decent fellow. He was very good-tempered with Tim, who was a trifle taken aback when he learnt that he had ordered off the son of the Prime Minister.”
“And a precious Prime Minister he is! Mark my words, Tom, the Country’s going to the dogs. To the dogs! We’re dropping behind, Tom, and Langside hasn’t the grit to prevent it.”
“Mr. Oliphant suggested that a word to his father might induce him to buy the aeroplane for the Country.”