"And there was Blanche Scott——"
"They're all imitators of Orissa Kane!" declared Madeline impatiently. "There's only one real Flying Girl, Uncle, and if she's on the program at the San Diego meet I'm going to see her."
"You'll be disappointed," averred the gentleman. "She's a native of these parts, they say; I presume some big-boned, masculine, orange-picking female——"
"Wrong again, sir! The reporters all rave about her. They say she has a charming personality, is lovely and sweet and modest and—and——" She paused, her eyes dilating a little as she marked the red flush creeping over Miss Kane's neck and face. Then Madeline drew in her breath sharply and cast a warning glance at her uncle.
Mr. Tupper, however, was obtuse. He knew nothing of Madeline's suspicions.
"Have you ever seen this dare-devil namesake of yours, Miss Kane?" he asked indifferently.
"Yes, sir," she answered in a quiet tone.
"And what did you think of her?"
Madeline was powerless to stop him. Miss Kane, however, looked at her questioner with candid eyes, a frank smile upon her beautiful face.
"She has a fine aëroplane," was her reply. "Her brother invented it, you know. It's the Kane Aircraft, the safest and speediest yet made, and Stephen Kane has taught his sister how to handle it. That she flies his Aircraft successfully is due, I am sure, to her brother's genius; not to any especial merit of her own."