Oliphant came to dinner with his sister and was approved. Mrs. Greatorex afterwards pronounced him to be “quite a nice boy.” Mr. Greatorex used different terms.
“He’s no fool, and don’t talk too much,” he said.
The three had a very animated discussion as they walked in the cool of the evening. Mr. Greatorex was very emphatic on the point of secrecy.
“We don’t want any newspaper fellow to get wind of the airship until we’ve proved it,” he said. “A pretty fool I should look if they gassed about it for a column or two and then the whole thing went pop like a paper balloon. And that Morocco fellow will have plenty of spies, of course; I know their Eastern ways; and if he got a hint of what we’re up to, he’d be on his guard and then there’d be fizzle.”
“How many passengers will the machine carry?” asked Oliphant.
“Three or four light-weights, I should think,” Tom replied.
“You’ll have room for me, then?”
“Good heavens, no!” cried Mr. Greatorex. “Couldn’t hear of it!”
“But it was my idea, you know, Mr. Greatorex. I was only longing for something to fill these holidays.”
“Absurd! Preposterous! You’re under age; you couldn’t go without your father’s permission; you couldn’t ask that without giving the whole thing away: and I couldn’t be responsible for you.”