Bill, delighted to see his old buddy, laughed at him, and poked him in his now well-padded ribs. “One question at a time, Hank. What are you doing here? And how come you’ve got this grand ship?” asked Bill.
“I asked you first,” laughed Hank.
They spent the next ten minutes telling each other just what they had been doing since their last meeting. They spared the details, but each was satisfied with the other’s story. Hank had done well as the manager and later as president of his father’s steel plant. Prosperity had ironed out the wrinkles that had always twinkled around his steely grey eyes, and contentment had added inches to his waistline, but he was still the same generous, fun-loving Hank that the boys had known in France.
“Listen,” said Hank. “Come on in and try the plane. See how comfortable it is. Say, this is some different from the old rattletraps we used to fly, isn’t it?”
“But we had some good thrills in them, didn’t we,” said Bill. This meeting with Hank was bringing back memories that had not stirred in him for many years.
“Let’s get in here where we can talk in comfort,” said Hank.
They mounted a little step that the mechanic set for them, and entered the side door of the plane. The inside was amazingly luxurious. Along both sides were upholstered seats, covered with multi-colored cushions. There were built-in fixtures, and everything to make for the greatest ease in traveling. The pilot’s seat could be partitioned off by a glass sliding door up front.
The three men sat down on the seats at the side of the cabin. “Gee, they’re soft,” said Bob. “I could ride all day on these.” He jumped up and down a little.
“Remember your manners,” said Bill.
Bob stopped jumping and blushed. “Oh, I forgot,” he said. He had really forgotten that Hank Brown was an important man, a millionaire. But Hank only laughed.