Peggy stuffed the binoculars into her brother's brown hands.

"Here, look for yourself," she ordered. Her voice was so imperious that
Roy obeyed immediately.

An instant later his sister's expression of dumfounded amazement was
mirrored on his own straightforward, good-looking countenance.

"Well, as Bud used to say out West, 'if that ain't the beatingest'!" he
gasped.

"What did you read?" demanded Peggy breathlessly. "Repeat it so that I may
be sure my eyes didn't play me a trick."

"Not likely, Sis; the letters are big enough. They show up on that red
painted barn of a place like a big freckle on a pretty girl's chin."

Then he repeated slowly, mimicking a boy reciting a lesson:

"The Mortlake Aeroplane Company. Well, wouldn't that jar you?"

"Roy!" reproved Peggy.

"There's no other way to express it, Sis," protested the boy. "Why, that's
the concern that's been advertising so much recently. Just to think, it
was right at our door, and we never knew it."

"And that hateful old Mr. Harding is interested in it, too, oh!"