"Let's write postcards to Father and Uncle Richard, any way," suggested Ethel Brown. "You know they're stamped 'Aerial Delivery' or some such words and it will interest them awfully at Vera Cruz to know their mail started on its way to Mexico by airship."
They went into the writing room at the Post Office and prepared the special postcards, and had the pleasure of nodding to Mr. Graham when he came for the bag. They had slipped their own letters into the regular letter drop and they watched him receive a handful of personal letters, among which were their own, with a vivid interest because they felt that in a few hours their fate would be decided.
"I'm going to feel sorry if I don't get the prize," confessed Helen, "but not more than one of us can get it—unless he should take up the Ethels together because they're little—and I'll be glad if one of us has the chance to go."
"Me, too," said Roger stoutly. "But I wish he had an ark and could take the whole family."
"We needn't be so sure that a member of our family will take the prize," suggested Mrs. Morton when they came home. "There are one or two other families on the grounds and I've no doubt the poor man will regret his offer when he has to open his mail."
"He had some crop this morning," said Roger. "I dare say it will grow all day long."
It was the next day but one before the exciting question was decided. Then Mr. Graham inserted a card in the Daily. Ethel Brown read it again at the breakfast table.
"'Mr. Graham desires to announce,'" she read, "'that two young ladies have suggested the name he has been most pleased with—Swallow and Hirondelle. He prefers the French form but he will be glad to discharge his obligations to both the persons who suggested practically the same name.'"
"It's us," murmured Ethel Blue, too surprised to speak aloud.
"'If Miss Ethel Brown Morton and Miss Ethel Blue Morton will be at the hangar at six o'clock this evening Mr. Graham will redeem his offer.'"