“Good! One of our tasks is to be that of keeping in touch with the plane spotters in our territory. They are all volunteers. They work without pay and are, I am sure, very conscientious people.”
“They must be.” Norma agreed. “And do you know, I really like these real New Englanders.”
“They seem more genuinely American than most people I’ve come to know,” Miss Warren agreed. “What I wanted to suggest was that now and then you take a motorcycle—there are two in the basement room of the Sea Tower—and visit these spotter sheds. There’s one near Granite Head.”
“I think I saw it as I passed this morning.”
“I haven’t a doubt of it. You might like to take a run out there right now,” the Lieutenant suggested.
“That would be real fun. Thank you so much.” A quarter of an hour later, dressed in her fatigue suit and with stout coveralls drawn over it, Norma leapt on her motorcycle and went pop-popping away.
She was not long in reaching the place in the road nearest the spotter shed.
As she paused to study the steep road leading up to the shed, two girls who were undoubtedly twins came hurrying from the opposite direction. Seeing that they were about to start the climb, Norma said:
“Going up? Hop on behind. I think this thing will take us all up.”
“Oh, fine!” they exclaimed. “We’re late.”