“The aviator is already provided, sir.”
“What! You have found him?” exclaimed Mr. Cumberford.
“I ought to have said ‘aviatress,’ I suppose,” laughed the girl.
“My daughter? Nonsense.”
“Oh, Sybil would undertake it, if I’d let her,” replied Orissa. “But I dare not trust anyone but—myself. There is too much at stake.”
“You!”
“Just Orissa Kane. I’ve been to the hospital this morning and talked with Steve, and he quite approves my idea.”
Mr. Cumberford looked at the slight, delicate form with an expression of wonder. The girl seemed so dainty, so beautiful, so very feminine and youthful, that her suggestion to risk her life in an airship was positively absurd.
“You’ve a fine nerve, my child,” he remarked, with a sigh, “and I’ve no doubt you would undertake the thing if I’d give my consent. But of course I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”