"A lamb! A witch! Absolutely top hole when you get used to her." The top-hole lamb and witch was a smallish biplane with no great wing-spread, but powerfully engined, whose points N. explained to me as—her speed, her climbing angle, her wonderful stability, etc., while the Captain and Lieutenant hastened off to find the Major, who, appearing in due course, proved to be slender, merry-eyed and more youthful-looking than the Lieutenant. Indeed, so young-seeming was he that upon better acquaintance I ventured to enquire his age, and he somewhat unwillingly owned to twenty-three.
"But," said he, "I'm afraid we can't show you very much, the weather's so perfectly rotten for flying."
"Oh, I don't know," said the Captain, glancing towards the witch-lamb, "I rather thought I'd like to try this new machine—if you don't mind, sir."
"Same here," murmured the Lieutenant.
"But you've never flown a Nieuport before, have you, eh?" enquired the Major.
"No, sir, but—"
"Nor you either, C.?"
"No, sir, still—"
"Then I'll try her myself," said the Major, regarding the witch-lamb joyous-eyed.
"But," demurred the Captain, "I was rather under the impression you'd never flown one either."