_The Hoax Discovered_
It was Harriman Smith who brought Linda the news that the Lightcap
flight was a fraud.
Linda had not turned on the radio that morning, when the newspaper
flashed forth the story of Mabel and Joyce Lightcap's successful
arrival in Paris. While they were over the ocean, Linda had followed
their progress with the keenest interest, but now that they were being
fêted, it was more than she could bear to listen to the accounts of the
celebration.
She was just finishing her coffee when Harry burst in. Good old Harry,
whom she hadn't seen since Thanksgiving! Here, she thought, was a
friend indeed, who would not rejoice with the others merely because she
was safe, even though she had to forfeit her greatest ambition. Deep in
her heart she knew that he realized her disappointment and sympathized.
"You can still win, Linda!" he cried exultantly, pulling her from her
chair by grasping both her hands. "The Lightcaps are a fake!"
"A fake?" she repeated, in a daze.
"Yes. Joyce happens to be a man! Masquerading as a girl! And he's been
discovered, of course."
Wild with excitement, Linda clutched the boy's hands to steady herself.
It was all so impossible, so unbelievable!
"Tell me everything!" she demanded. "Are you sure, Harry?"
"Positive. So would you be, if you'd turned on your radio, instead of
saturating yourself with that sentimental newspaper! Everybody knows it
now. Needless to say, they are not getting the prize."
Linda felt almost weak as she listened, and she dropped back into her
chair to hear the details.
"It seems that this Joyce Lightcap is an experienced pilot--a mechanic,
too--and he got the idea of winning that twenty-five thousand. So for
months he and Mabel--she's his wife--have been living in seclusion,
while he allowed his hair to grow and practiced acting the part of a
girl. Joyce is a girl's name too, you know, as well as a man's, so his
license was O.K. Then, when the big moment came, Mabel got backers to
buy the Ford tri-motor plane, and they took off for Paris."
"But how did they discover him?" asked Linda.
"By the simplest method of all. Somebody noticed his beard!"
The answer was so ridiculous that Linda let out a peal of laughter.
"You see," explained Harry, "Joyce relied on paint and powder to cover
his cheeks and chin during the flight. From what I understand, Mabel's
a wonderful talker, but she can't fly very well, and her husband didn't
dare take the opportunity to shave. And some smart Johnnie, who kept
shouting that no two girls could possibly fly the Atlantic, found
himself challenged. He sneaked up near enough to the pair to rub his
hands on their faces. Then, of course their game was up."
Linda sat silent for a moment, thinking the situation over. At first it
appeared impossible, like the plot out of a fantastical musical comedy,
but when she remembered how anxious Ralph Clavering had been to go with
her, it did not seem so strange. Why, Ralph might have suggested the
very thing himself if he had thought of it!
"What made you think of coming to tell me, Harry?" she inquired, after
a moment.
"I wasn't coming to tell you, but to rejoice _with_ you!" he amended.
"Linda, dear, you have never been out of my thoughts for a minute these
last two days." He paused and looked shyly away from her. "Will you
believe it, when I tell you that my heart just bled for you?"
"Harry!" she exclaimed hoarsely. "You really cared--for my sake?"
"More than I can tell you!"
"And I imagined I hadn't a friend," she murmured. "A real friend, I
mean, who thought more of my feelings than of my physical safety....
Oh, Harry, I'll never forget this!"
There was a deep silence for a moment, a silence filled with
understanding and sympathy. Then Linda heard her aunt's voice, calling
her from the library.
"Can you come in here a minute, dear?" she said. "I want you to look at
your new dress."
"Certainly," responded her niece, and as Linda rose from her chair she
felt as if she were walking on air. The whole world had changed for her
in that ten minutes since Harriman Smith's arrival.
The young people entered the library together.
"Why, good morning Harry," said Miss Carlton, cordially. "I didn't know
that Linda had company."
"It is a queer time to call, I'll admit," replied Harry. "And I guess I
even forgot to apologize. But I do now."
"You're excused," smiled the older woman. "At least if you'll be
patient while I talk clothes for a moment.... You see, dear," she
explained to Linda, "this dress has just come--I ordered it a couple
of weeks ago for you when I was shopping in Columbus--and I think it
will do nicely for the wedding. Louise's mother just told me that
you will be the only attendant--it's too short notice to worry about
bridesmaids--and that practically any color you select will do. So I
want you to look at this."
Taking off the lid of the box, she held up a filmy chiffon dress of the
palest apple-blossom. Simply made, with a petaled skirt and a wide pink
satin bow at the waist, its delicacy spoke eloquently of spring-time,
of weddings, of romance. Yet Linda hardly saw it.
"Lovely, Aunt Emily, lovely," she murmured mechanically. "You always
have the most perfect taste."
Satisfied with her niece's approval, and unaware of the far-away look
in the girl's eyes, Miss Carlton turned again to her desk, bidding the
young people go off and amuse themselves.
"You didn't tell her, Linda!" exclaimed Harry, as they went out to the
garage for the sports roadster.
"No. She--wouldn't be interested, Harry! Aunt Emily's a dear, but she
has no time for airplanes. And she thinks ocean flights are absolutely
insane."
"But oughtn't you to let her know immediately that the wedding will be
postponed? That Louise will go with you now, as she promised?"
Linda was silent; she had forgotten how changed her chum's plans were.
It would hardly be fair at this late date to ask her to put the wedding
aside. Why, even the cake was ordered!
"No, Harry, I can't do it now. I'm--I'm not going to take Louise."
They had reached the garage, and Linda stooped over to unlock her car.
As she did this, she made her decision; it was so simple that she was
surprised that she had not thought of it before.
"Harry," she said softly, "I'm going to Paris _alone_."
Expecting the usual protest, she went on to adjust the spark and the
throttle in readiness to start the motor. But no protest came.
"Bully for you, Linda!" he cried, throwing his hat into the air, in his
enthusiasm. "Those were the words I was hoping to hear!"
She raised her head swiftly, and grasped his hand so tightly that it
hurt. Here, she repeated to herself, was a real friend!
She backed the car out of the garage and they drove to Columbus,
where they had lunch in a charming tea-room and attended a matinée
afterwards. Because Harriman Smith was working his way through college,
his visits back to Spring City were necessarily limited; the unusual
treat was doubly delightful to them both on that account. When they
returned late in the afternoon, the news of the Lightcap hoax was on
everyone's tongue. And naturally, all of Linda's and Louise's friends
were asking what these girls would do now.
The question confronted Louise herself most seriously, and three times
that day she called Linda on the telephone, only to be told by the
maid that she was out. Finally, about five o'clock she drove over to
the Carltons, and announced her intention of staying until her chum
returned.
Linda and Harry came in gayly about half-past five.
"You quitter!" cried Louise. "Where have you been?"
"Joy-riding," laughed the other girl. Then she added seriously, "Don't
say anything, Lou! Don't offer to change your plans, and put off your
wedding, because I've decided to fly solo!"
"Solo!" repeated Louise, in an awed whisper. But it was easy to detect
the relief in her tone.
"Yes. Grab all the honors for myself! Just like Bess Hulbert. Pure
selfishness on my part."
Her chum understood her real reason, however, and hugged her tightly in
her joy.
"You are an angel, Linda! But I know you're capable of doing it, and
I'm going to let you. And oh, I'll pray so hard for you to win! No girl
ever deserved the honor half so much!"
As easily as that it was all settled, and Miss Carlton had to agree,
once her brother gave his admiring consent. One concession, however,
Linda made to her Aunt Emily and to Louise: she would come back from
school the following week to be maid-of-honor at the wedding, just as
she had promised. With this agreement Linda returned by train to St.
Louis a day or so later.
The first person she met at the ground school was Mr. Eckers, her
friendly instructor. He was grinning broadly.
"Well, Miss Carlton, we've been having some excitement, eh, what?" he
remarked, as he shook hands with her.
"I should say so," agreed Linda. "I thought my plans were all smashed
to pieces."
"Funniest thing I ever heard of. But so fool-hardy. As if a man could
carry off a thing like that!"
"Well, it has been done before you know," Linda reminded him. "Look at
that famous Frenchman--Deon de Beaumont--who masqueraded as a woman for
so long, and fooled everybody."
"True," admitted Mr. Eckers, who besides being an expert pilot, was a
well-educated man. "And wasn't it funny the way the King punished him!"
"I'm afraid I've forgotten that."
"Why, he was forced to continue playing the part of a woman for
the rest of his life.... We might suggest the idea to Mrs. Rodman
Hallowell."
Linda laughed merrily. "Really, though," she said, "I blame the girl
more than her husband. It seems to me that she has brought dishonor on
all of our sex. Just when we women are working so hard to establish our
place in aviation by honest methods. Look at Ruth Nichols, breaking
Lindbergh's coast-to-coast record, and Mrs. Keith Miller with her
valiant solo flights, and Amelia Earhart and Myrtle Brown holding those
responsible positions in big airplane companies--and dozens of us
working day after day for commercial and transport licenses! Then for a
girl like this Mabel Lightcap, who can scarcely pilot a plane, to try
to grab the biggest honors of all! Oh, I tell you, Mr. Eckers, a thing
like that hurts!"
"But she _didn't_ succeed, my dear child. Don't forget that. Somebody
who really is worthy will, I am sure of that." And he gave her an
admiring smile.
Alone though she was that week, the days passed rapidly, for there
was so much to do. Like Lindbergh, the keynote of her flight was
preparation, and in this effort, the school, under Mr. Eckers'
guidance, gave her plenty of help. Everything about the flight, down to
the last detail, was being planned in advance.
So busy was she, that she hated to take the time to go to Spring City
for Louise's wedding, yet never for a moment was there any thought of
breaking her promise. After all, the trip would not consume much time,
for she decided to use a commercial air line, thus cutting the hours in
half.
Nor had she any regrets. The wedding was the loveliest, yet at the
same time, the simplest, that she had ever attended; it would remain
in her memory as long as she lived. Held at Louise's home, with only
her intimate friends present, the whole affair was both informal and
delightful. Ted Mackay's radiant happiness, too, was something worth
traveling miles to witness.
It was natural that Linda shed tears when the time came for parting
with her chum. Great distances would separate them for long weeks
ahead, there would be lonely hours over the vast black ocean for the
young aviatrix when she would long for Louise as she had never wanted
anyone before. Yet surely, she reminded herself with a smile through
her tears, great happiness lay ahead for them both.
She tried to make light of her farewell to her Aunt Emily, for she did
not believe that she would see her again before the take-off for Paris.
The Bellanca might arrive any day now, and Linda was not going to wait
for the date she and Louise had previously set. After a period of test
flying, the only thing that would keep her back would be the weather.
As soon as the reports were favorable, she would be ready to go.
The sooner the better, she thought, as she returned to the school the
following morning. But one look at Mr. Eckers' face told her that
something had happened--that she was too late!
Putting his hand on her shoulder, the man spoke with difficulty. It was
almost as if Linda Carlton were his own daughter, so keenly did her
disappointments affect him. "My dear," he said gently, "Bess Hulbert
took off from New York this morning at dawn for Paris."