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.