David howled. He laughed so hard that people looked around at der grosse Amerikaner, who was making so much noise.
“Oh, won’t it be fun when your father sees that menagerie? The air will be just full of love birds, and monkeys, and rolly-canaries, and kittens.”
“You are showing a cloven foot,” she said. “Don’t you like pets?”
David sobered down.
“Truly, I do, and I could be happy forever if I could have a couple of love birds, and some canaries, and a kitten, and you—your marmoset,” he added quickly, warned by Dulcie’s prim mouth.
“That’s better, big boy, and when we get home perhaps I will give you some of them. The marmoset, and maybe my best love—bird! But now,” she added, all too briskly, “we’ll soon be back on the Moonbeam. I’ve a lot to do, and there will no doubt be thousands of tüchtiger officers, waiting to say Auf Wiedersehen.”
CHAPTER IX
EASTWARD
Returning to the effulgence of the landing field, they found that preparations were well under way for their departure. David went at once to headquarters, where he was to join Mr. Hammond and the other officers. Dulcie, dodging her tüchtiger officers, found Red, and had an earnest talk with him. When they parted, Red was shaking with laughter, and Dulcie, looking as though she was the kitten and had just eaten one of the canaries, went back to find the bereft Germans, all of whom hastened to assure her that they were coming to America immediately.
At last everything was ready, and at one forty-five the ship was walked out of the hangar. Good-byes were said, thanks exchanged, passengers counted and they rose, accompanied by cheers, waving handkerchiefs, and the furious blasts of a brass band. As the Moonbeam gained altitude she was followed by a giant spotlight that held her in a dazzling arc of radiance, up, and up, and up until the ray grew dim and was left behind.
Beautiful, bright Friedrichshafen was a memory, and Sunday, the twentieth of June, was over. David found Dulcie writing in the salon, and whispered, “Has he seen ’em yet?”