_Bad News_
The next four weeks at the school opened an entirely new chapter
in Linda Carlton's life. Cold weather flying! Figuring on drops in
temperature, high winds, sleet and snow! Using instruments as she had
never used them before. Practicing landing her plane in small spaces,
marked off by the instructor. Learning to repair simple injuries like
cuts in the wings and installing new propellers. Never had anything
been so fascinating; sometimes, late in the afternoons after regular
school hours, she would stay on with Eckers, watching him inspect a
motor, or going up in the air with him on a test flight, till she would
forget all about supper. By the time the holidays had arrived, he told
her he would be willing to have her do some testing herself.
Usually as she sat there, watching him intently, and now and then
performing some simple service, she would be absolutely quiet. But
sometimes she talked of the future, of her hope of securing a good job
in aviation, of her dream of flying the Atlantic.
Home, social life--even family life--at Spring City seemed far away
from her now. It was with a start that she suddenly realized it was
December twentieth, the first day of vacation, when she and Louise were
expected home. And they had not even bought a Christmas card!
Only once in those four weeks had she met with the slightest accident.
It happened early in the month, one afternoon when, flying a school
plane, a sudden shower, a veritable cloudburst, came up, and one of her
cylinders cut out. She happened to be rather low--only a few hundred
feet above the ground--so it was necessary for her to land. Cutting the
throttle, she came down into a soft muddy swamp. The wheels touched
the oozy ground, the plane ran a few feet and nosed over. But nothing
serious happened; the propeller was badly cracked, and both Linda
and the plane covered with mud, but she stepped out laughing. Minor
accidents like that are all in the day's work!
As each succeeding day had passed, she was gaining confidence in her
ability to cope with any sort of accident. And now, flying home to
Spring City in the clear morning sunlight seemed only like so much
play. She suggested that she turn the controls over to Louise, to add
to the latter's flying hours.
They came down in the field behind Linda's house, but Louise refused to
stop to go inside with her chum.
"I can run home across the back field by the time you'd have the car
out of the garage," she said. "Glad I didn't bring a suit-case--I've
nothing to carry but this hand-bag.... So you go on in to your aunt.
She's probably waiting breathlessly to see how many broken limbs you
have!"
Linda laughed: it was true that Miss Carlton expected an injury every
time anyone rode in an airplane. So she hurried into the house through
the back door, and skipped into the library where she knew her Aunt
Emily would be waiting.
But she came upon a surprise. Her father was standing beside the table,
nervously fingering a magazine. Linda knew in a glance that something
was wrong; he smiled at her in a queer manner as he kissed her, and
Miss Carlton's expression was like a person's at a funeral. What were
they both trying to hide?
She looked questioningly at her aunt.
"We can't keep anything from you, can we, Linda?" remarked the latter.
"Please tell me what is wrong, Aunt Emily!"
"Nothing so dreadful. Only--business. I'll let your father tell you
while I go to look after the dinner.... You're all right, dear? No
accidents?"
"Just fine!" replied Linda, her eyes still sparkling from the fun of
flying in that cold, clear weather.
Miss Carlton left the room, and her brother began almost immediately,
without even sitting down.
"I guess I never should have tried going into a new business at my
age," he remarked, almost bitterly. "It looked like a good thing,
though--a novel thing. But conditions arose that I could never have
foreseen. I'm--I'm going to be bankrupt, Linda, I'm afraid--unless
something happens in the next month."
"Bankrupt!" repeated his daughter, in amazement. "But Daddy, why?"
"I'm afraid you wouldn't understand, dear--or rather, it's no use
burdening you with unnecessary worries. Your Aunt Emily is willing for
me to sell this house, to raise some money. I'm only too thankful that
you won't have to give up your school--that that's all paid for, and I
put the money aside for you."
"But Daddy, you can have that back again--or most of it! So long as the
course is paid for in advance, I'll have very few expenses till the end
of the term. Only my board--I don't even need clothes."
She had spoken impulsively, but she knew as she said this, that it
meant death to her hopes of flying the Atlantic. Yet she did not
hesitate; her father's happiness was worth all the prizes and fame in
the world.
"And how would you live, after you finish at the school?" he asked.
"It's awfully generous of you, dear, but I don't see how I could take
it."
"I'm going to get a job--flying. I intended to, anyhow, once I have a
commercial pilot's license. Oh, Daddy, please!"
"Well, maybe I will, if I can't see my way clear any other way. But of
course it will be only a loan. That is, if the business can be saved."
He had forgotten her dream of flying the Atlantic, and she did not
remind him.
"I wish you would tell me just what happened," she urged. "I'm sure I
can understand.
"Of course I will," he agreed, realizing her genuine sympathy and
interest. "Though there is a mystery about it that even I can't
understand.
"I sold all my first order to the stores in New York and Philadelphia
and Chicago, as I told you at Thanksgiving, and I had a lot more
orders. I even took on new salesmen for other cities, and I sent my
agent up to Canada, to the convent, to rush me a new supply. I even
wrote ahead to ask the Mother Superior to employ some poor women in the
village, and teach them the needle-work--at my expense.
"Yesterday the blow came. My agent wired that all the work had been
sold to someone else--someone who paid more than I did!"
"But how could they, Daddy?" demanded Linda. "Didn't they promise you?"
"Well, not exactly. You see I didn't know how well the thing would
take, so I didn't have any actual contract. Besides, the Mother
Superior probably never noticed the agent--or she may have been led to
believe he was one of my men. Anyway, she sold everything. And here is
the queer part of the story:
"The stores which bought from me became impatient when I didn't refill
their orders, and bought from this other man _at a lower price_! He
paid more for the lace-work, and sells it for less!"
It was certainly baffling; Linda tried hard to see it from every angle.
"Had you marked the goods too high, Daddy?" she asked. "I mean so high
that this other man could afford to sell for less, and still make
money?"
"No, I hadn't. I was taking a very small profit, because I was afraid
to make the work too expensive, for fear it wouldn't sell. And there's
a big tax to pay, besides, for bringing it into the United States from
Canada. No, every way I figure it out, this man must be losing money."
Suddenly he sighed, and dropped into a chair, as if he were thoroughly
beaten.
"So you see, dear, there's nothing I can do," he concluded. "It would
be folly for me to go on, because even if the convent would sell to me
again, I would have to pay this new high price--and lose more money.
The best thing I can do is pay my debts--sublet my offices, if I
can, for unfortunately I took a long term lease--and get out. And be
thankful I haven't lost more!"
"But Daddy, aren't you going to even try to solve the mystery?" asked
Linda, her eyes blazing with anger. "Somebody is just planning to kick
you out, taking a loss for a few months, so as to get the business! It
can't last. Why not take my money and go on--at a loss--for a while?"
"But I couldn't hold out as long as he could. He probably has a lot
more capital than I have, and could afford to play a losing game for
a long while, until he had wiped me out, and gotten hold of the trade
for himself. He's probably begun already to build up a trade all over
the country, while so far I've only handled some of eastern cities--as
far as Chicago. No, Daughter, I'm afraid I've made a mistake--I'm not
the sort of fellow for cut-throat competition, as they all practice in
business today."
"Hold on for a little while longer, Daddy, and--investigate!" she urged.
"And use up all your money?"
"Yes. Why not?"
He placed his hand upon hers, and stroked it gently. Then he suddenly
remembered her proposed flight over the ocean, and stopped:
"But Linda, isn't it your greatest hope to fly the Atlantic?" he asked.
She choked a little, but she answered resolutely.
"I think I'll give that up. There are other women flyers so much better
and so much more experienced than I am, that they'll be sure to do it
next spring."
He could not know how valiantly she was giving up her greatest
aspiration.
"Well, if that's the case," he said, "perhaps I will borrow some of
your money, and try to go on. But we will sell this house anyway, and
take an apartment. Your Aunt Emily says it's too big for her now....
But stop thinking about my troubles, dear, and go find out about your
engagements for the holidays. There's a pile of mail on your desk
waiting for you."
Linda dashed off, in the pretense of being interested in her mail,
but in reality to get control of herself, to steel herself to the
great sacrifice she had just made. She mustn't let her father see
how terribly disappointed she was! She mustn't tell him how they had
praised her work at the school, how she ranked far above most of the
young men who were studying! She must get hold of Louise, and stop her
from talking.
Oh, the pain of going back to school, and telling her instructor--Mr.
Eckers, who was so much interested in her project that he kept it
constantly in mind, the better to prepare her for every emergency that
might arise when the time came for the momentous trip! The tears came
to her eyes, but she fought them back. There was no good in sacrifice,
if one had to be a martyr about it. No; she must pretend to be
perfectly satisfied over the affair.
She lay on her bed, her head buried in her pillow, fighting for control
of herself. The unopened invitations lay in a tumbled pile beside her.
But it suddenly dawned upon her that her aunt might come in at any
moment. She mustn't let her guess anything!
Then, like a refuge in a storm, she again thought of Louise. She would
go to her right away. With her chum there would be no need of acting.
And though Louise would be almost as disappointed as Linda was herself,
yet the sympathy would help.
So she hurried and changed from her flying suit into a street dress,
and hiding her invitations under her pillow so that her aunt wouldn't
wonder at her lack of interest, she skipped lightly down the stairs,
and, calling good-by to her aunt, ran out to the garage for her little
car.
She found her chum lying luxuriously on her bed, sipping tea and
reading her mail. Impulsively Linda threw her arms about her, and
started to cry. It was such a relief to weep!
"Darling!" cried Louise, in genuine alarm. "What is the matter? Is your
father sick--or hurt?"
"No, no," sobbed Linda. "Oh, Lou--it's good to cry!"
"Good to cry!" repeated the other girl in utter amazement. Less than
an hour ago she had left her in the best of spirits. Besides, it was a
rare thing to see Linda in tears.
"Yes. I can't cry at home. Listen...."
And she told the story of her father's failure.
"So it means giving up our flight--for the prize!" she concluded.
"And let Bess Hulbert win!" added Louise, bitterly. "Not without a
struggle, you can make sure of that!"
"But what can we do, Lou?"
"I don't know.... Oh, if Dad only had a lot of money! But I'm sure
everything he has is tied up in his business.... Linda, why aren't we
rich like Kitty Clavering?"
"Yes, why aren't we? I never cared much before. I always thought we had
enough to be happy."
"So we did. Till something like this comes along.... We might ask the
Flying Club to back us."
Linda only smiled.
"If they can back anybody, it will be Miss Hulbert. But they can't,
unless Mr. Clavering does it personally."
"Well, we'll just have to think up some plan. Maybe the school----"
"No, that's no hope, because every flyer there wants backing for
something, some race, or some enterprise. No, that's out."
"Just the same, we're not giving up yet!" announced Louise, with
determination. "Your father may pull out, or somebody may stop us on
the street and take such a fancy to one of us----"
"Lou, you've been reading dime novels!" teased Linda. "There are too
many good flyers today--good women flyers, too--for anybody to do that
now."
"True. But there must be something--some way----"
"If we could only help Daddy in some way," mused Linda. "Find out who
the man is who is trying to kill his business, and persuade him to take
Daddy into partnership."
"Now you're on the track, Linda!" cried the other girl,
enthusiastically. "We'll do that very thing! Hunt the mystery! Why,
Linda, we've got over two weeks, and a plane and two cars! Who'd want
more?"
"Wonderful! And we don't want to go to all these parties and dances
anyhow, feeling the way we do!"
"Righto!"
The girls hugged each other in their ecstasy, and swayed back and forth
happily. Then Louise grabbed her invitations, and began to make a list.
"We'll go over our mail and decline everything that comes after
Christmas day," she said, in a business-like manner.
"And tomorrow morning we'll go to the stores and buy some of this
stuff, and get the name of the dealer."
"Then fly to Montreal in his pursuit, if necessary!"
"In our 'Pursuit,'" corrected Linda.