the aeroplane under the shelter of an open cart-shed. It was quite snug
and dry once they had it under the roof. A short distance off stood a
farm-house of fairly comfortable appearance. Smoke issuing from one of its
chimneys showed that it was occupied.

"Let's go over there and see if we can dry our things," suggested Peggy.
"I'm wet through."

"Same here," was the laughing reply; "but a sailor doesn't mind that. One
actually gets webbed feet in the navy--like ducks, you know."

Ignoring this remarkable contribution to natural history, Peggy gathered
up her skirts daintily and fled across the meadow to the farm-house. It
was only a few hundred feet, but the rain came down so hard that both she
and her escort were wetter than ever by the time they arrived at the door.
It was shut, and except for the lazy wisps of smoke issuing from the
chimney, there was no sign of life about the place.

The lieutenant knocked thunderously. No answer.

"Try again," said Peggy; "maybe they are in some other part of the house."

"Perhaps they were scared of the aeroplane and have all retired into
hiding," suggested Mr. Bradbury.

He rapped again, louder this time, but still no reply.

"They must all be asleep," he said, applying himself once more to a
thunderous assault on the door, but to no avail. A silence hung about the
place, broken only by the roar and rattle of the thunder.