"I'll take you home in the auto," he cried to his passenger.
"We could go up to your house this way--in style--if there was a
field near by large enough to land in. But there isn't. So it
will have to be a plain, every-day auto."

"That's good enough for me," said Mary. "Though this trip is
wonderful--glorious! I'll go again any time you ask me."

"Well, I'll ask you," said Tom. "And when I do maybe it won't
be so hard to hold a conversation. It will be more like this,"
and he shut off the motor and began to glide gently down. The
quiet succeeding the terrific noise of the motor exhaust was
almost startling, and Tom and Mary could converse easily without
using the tube.

Then followed the landing on the soft, springy turf, a little
glide over the ground, and the machine came to a halt, while
mechanics ran out of the hangar to take charge of it.

"I'll just go in and change these togs," said Mary, as she
alighted and looked at her leather costume.

"No, don't," advised Tom. "You look swell in em. Keep 'em on.
They're yours, and you'll need 'em when we go up again. Here
comes the auto. I'll take you right home in it. Keep the aviation
suit on.

"I wonder what Mr. Damon could have wanted," remarked Tom, as
he drove Mary along the country road.