[CHAPTER NINE]
Eagles' Take-Off
"The one thing I simply adore about dear old England is the weather," Dawson grunted, and stuck both thumbs toward the ground. "So delightfully refreshing. Now take this perfect spring night. Why, where else in the world could you—?"
"Oh, shut up!" Freddy Farmer growled, and fiddled with the radio-jack of his helmet. "What's a little rain? Besides, it doesn't extend over Europe, the weather blokes assure us."
"Little rain is right!" Dawson snorted. "So little it's practically a falling mist. But it falls, and falls, and falls. Boy, there's going to be two great songs come out of England, but the second one hasn't been composed yet. Too bad I don't know C sharp from a three dollar hat, or I'd compose it myself."
"Well, thank goodness you won't!" Freddy snapped. "Your singing voice is bad enough. But what's the first song?"
"There'll Always Be An England," Dave replied. "And the one that some guy is bound to write before this is over, will be entitled: There'll Always Be Rain In England, Too!"
Freddy Farmer opened his mouth to make a fitting retort to that, but before he could release any words the door opened and an Air Forces lieutenant stepped inside.
"Major Crandall would like to see you in the C.O.'s office, Captains," he said.
"Major Crandall?" Dawson echoed. "He's down here?"
"That's right, Captain," the lieutenant assured him. "And he would like to see you both."