“Do you realize that the folks haven’t given us anything for graduation?” whispered Helen.
“Well, not exactly any concrete gift just now, but they’ve given me a lot of character and a sense of realization of the finer and honest things of life.”
“Oh, silly, of course I realize that, but Dad has been so mysterious today I know something is in the wind.”
When they reached Helen’s home they sat down to an informal supper in the dining room.
On two plates were envelopes, one marked “Janet” and the other “Helen.” Helen’s father was puffing rather furiously at his pipe as he watched the girls, their fingers clumsy from their haste, rip open the envelopes.
Long green slips of paper, looking very much like railroad tickets, came out of the envelopes. Helen was the first to read hers.
“Why, Dad,” she cried. “It’s a round trip ticket by airplane to Los Angeles.”
“So is mine,” gasped Janet. “What does this mean?”
Her father chuckling, nodded toward Henry Thorne.
“I’d say that it meant a round trip to Los Angeles. Also, if you’ll dig a little further into your envelopes, you’ll find reservations for the westbound plane out of Rubio just one week from tonight.”