Beach's younger set to be flying about the country with a good-looking
young naval officer?"

"Nonsense," retorted Peggy sharply, "as the only representative of the
Prescott aeroplanes on the ground, I had to do it. If it hadn't been for
this old storm, I'd have been home long ago."

"So should we. What a coincidence we should have met here. Is
this--this----"

"Lieutenant," prompted Peggy.

"Is this lieutenant going to stay long in Sandy Beach?"

"Dear me, no. He is only on a flying visit--no pun intended. He was to
have taken in the establishment of the Mortlake Aeroplane Company this
afternoon. You know, they are in that red, barn-like place, down the road
from our place, although Roy and I only found it out to-day."

"That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Peggy dear,"
said Jess, sinking into an old-fashioned Andrew Jackson chair by the
hearth. "Dad said at dinner last night that he had heard in New York that
a lot of their stock had been floated on Wall Street, and that that
hateful old Mr. Harding was back of it."

"They are actually selling stock?" asked Peggy, growing a bit pale.

"Yes. They have half-page advertisements in a lot of papers, I believe.
Dad said so. But why do you look so distressed, Peggy?"