Peggy stopped short. She felt she had committed a grave breach of tactfulness. It was not the thing, she felt, to boast to a professional woman flyer of their standing as amateurs.
Nor was the Cuban woman slow to take umbrage at what she considered an insult. Her eyes flashed indignantly as she regarded the fair-haired, slender girl before her.
"So you fly only for fun," she said vehemently; "very well, you have all zee fun you want before to-day is ovaire."
Without another word she walked off, with the swinging walk of her race.
The girls looked at each other with a sort of amused dismay.
"Goodness, Peggy; you should be more careful," cried Bess; "you've hurt her feelings dreadfully."
"I'm sure I didn't mean to," declared Peggy remorsefully. "I—I had no idea that she would flare up like that."
"Well, after all, it doesn't matter much," soothed Jess, pouring oil on the troubled waters, so to speak. "I'm glad the boys didn't hear it though."
"So am I. See, they're busy on Roy's machine," exclaimed Bess.
"Yes; the lower left wing is rather warped," explained Peggy; "they are fixing it."