All the passengers were aboard now. Jean had closed the main cabin door.

Captain Jordan flashed on the “No Smoking—Fasten Seat Belts” sign. Vicki went up and down the aisle checking to see that passengers had fastened their seat belts. The airplane began to vibrate. She made her welcoming announcement over the plane’s public-address system, adding, “Captain Jordan will keep you informed of flight data en route.” Then both stewardesses found seats—the observation lounge was the only vacant place—and strapped in for the take-off.

Suddenly the Electra was taxiing and in instants they were racing past the end of the runway. Even more suddenly—no wail, no warm-up of the engines—zoom! Whoosh! Up they went!

Jean and Vicki were so amazed that they stared at each other. “Jet engines!” they exclaimed. “Look at our rate of climb! And steep—almost straight up!” The plane tore into the sky. The “No Smoking—Fasten Seat Belts” sign went off. Here in the cabin there were music, air at a comfortable temperature and pressure, newspapers, magazines, and pillows which Vicki and Jean distributed. The captain’s call button sounded on the board in the buffet area, and he spoke over the plane’s communications system to the two hostesses.

“Everybody comfortable?”

“Yes, Captain,” said Vicki.

“You can tell our passengers we reached our cruising altitude within five minutes after take-off. Anyone especially interesting aboard?”

“We’ll tell you soon, sir,” said Vicki.

The passengers were interested in the Electra and asked questions. With sixty-eight aboard, Vicki and Jean could not stop to visit. But they chatted with the passengers while they set up at each seat the tray tables for dinner and spread linen tablecloths. The white-haired couple, Vicki learned, were Mr. and Mrs. Marshall Bryant. The lady told her this; the elderly man had fallen asleep, as if overtired. One genial man was a movie star, perennially young, even though he had five children. Several passengers recognized him, judging by their interested glances. He asked Vicki several stiff technical questions about the jet-propelled Electra.

From across the aisle a woman touched Vicki’s sleeve. “My two youngsters are getting hungry, I’m afraid. Could you please—?” “Yes, indeed, we’ll serve dinner soon. And we always serve the children first.”

Vicki made her way along the slightly swaying plane toward the buffet area. She was waylaid by only three passengers on the way. One man wanted to know if there was a razor aboard which he could borrow. There was. A woman asked Vicki how to adjust the individual air vents and reading lights. And a determined-looking man announced to the stewardess that he was a vegetarian.

“Y-yes, sir,” said Vicki, and made her smiling way to the sky kitchen. Once inside the closed accordion curtains, Vicki lost her smile and her face became as desperate as Jean’s, in her struggle with several oven drawers full of turkey dinners.

“Hi,” Jean greeted her. “Better put your smock on, like me. I’m scared we’ll still be serving dinners ten minutes after landing in New York.”

“We’ll do fine,” Vicki said without believing it, and started to make coffee.

“Parsley, parsley, where’s the parsley?” Jean muttered. “Somewhere in this overgrown filing cabinet—oh, yes, here.”

“Can we spare extra rolls for some hungry kids?” Vicki peered in the roll warmer. “Yes, we can.”

She collected nine rolls on a tray, one for each of the children aboard. On her way back to the buffet area with her empty tray, Vicki noticed that something was wrong in the Bryants’ area. Two men passengers were standing over Mr. Bryant, one loosening his collar and tie, and the call button rang. Vicki hurried to them. The people nearby were considerately snuffing out their cigarettes and opening air vents.

“My husband has a heart condition,” Mrs. Bryant said anxiously to Vicki. “I don’t think he’s having a heart attack, but he—”

Vicki concealed her alarm and looked at Mr. Bryant who was lying back weakly in his chair. He was conscious but exhausted, breathing with some difficulty. His face was pale and sweaty.

“Uncomfortable—” he muttered.

“He needs oxygen,” Vicki said. “I’ll get the oxygen bottle, Mrs. Bryant. Is he in any pain?... No? That’s good. I’ll be right back.” To the two men standing by rather uselessly, Vicki said, “Thank you, gentlemen. I am trained to give first aid.”

The men nodded and resumed their seats. Vicki sped to the storage compartment, being careful to look calm for the benefit of the other passengers, and hurried back down the aisle carrying a walk-around oxygen bottle and a blanket. She paused a moment at the buffet area.

“Jean, is there a doctor aboard?”

“Not among my passengers. Who’s sick?”

“That elderly man. Mr. Bryant. Heart condition.”

“Want me to notify Captain Jordan for you?” Jean asked. “Yes, phone him. I’ll report soon. Please start serving dinners, Jean. We must keep it pleasant aboard just as usual.”

Vicki hastened back to the Bryants. She covered the man with the blanket.

“Miss Barr, I must tell you”—Mrs. Bryant made an effort to control her trembling voice and hands—“that my husband is more exhausted than ill. He had three quite tiring days in Chicago on business, and it’s been hard on him.”

Vicki said soothingly, “Certain people need extra oxygen at high altitudes, where the air is thin. Our cabin air is pressurized, but for someone who is a cardiac, and for other special needs, we carry extra oxygen.”

As she talked, she placed the oxygen bottle on Mr. Bryant’s lap; he was able to hold it steady. Vicki opened the bottle’s knob, then adjusted the constant-flow mask snugly over Mr. Bryant’s mouth and nose.

Almost at once his breathing grew easier. A little color returned to his face. When he seemed comfortable again, Vicki removed the mask and closed the knob. Just the same, she was worried. He was still weak, and he was an elderly person with an impaired heart.

“Mr. Bryant, Mrs. Bryant, if you wish to have a doctor’s care within just a few minutes,” Vicki said earnestly, “we can arrange it for you. The pilot can make an emergency landing. Captain Jordan will radio ahead to the nearest airport to have a doctor and ambulance waiting to meet our plane.”

Mrs. Bryant murmured, “That’s wonderful. What do you think, Marshall?”

“No. Not necessary. Make myself conspicuous. Inconvenience all these people.”

“Not at all, sir,” Vicki said. “Captain Jordan probably will be able to make up the time.”

“No. I’m all right. Only a weak spell. Thank you, anyway.”

Vicki asked respectfully, “Did a doctor give his permission for you to fly, sir?”

“The doctor most certainly did not—” Mrs. Bryant started, but the man interrupted. “Fool doctors would keep me in a rocking chair. I have to do what I think is right.”

Vicki mentioned briefly the regulation for Federal and all airlines: a person with a serious heart condition was not supposed to fly unless he had a doctor’s written permission to do so, on the grounds that the trip was necessary, and unless he had someone to accompany him who could nurse him. The airlines relied on cardiacs not to board a plane without such certification.

“If we had known in advance, Mr. Bryant,” Vicki said, “we would have been obliged to keep you off the plane.”

“Well, you took excellent care of me, young lady. It worked out, didn’t it?”

Mrs. Bryant shook her head. “You are so self-willed, Marshall. So stubborn.” Vicki turned to her. “The oxygen I gave your husband is only first aid, you know. Do you feel a doctor should see him immediately?”

“Well, I’ve seen him have worse spells than this one—not in the air, either.” The elderly lady hesitated. “He does seem much better now—”

Vicki said that it was really up to the captain of the plane to decide whether to make an emergency landing. She excused herself, went forward past curious passengers, unlocked the cabin door, and stepped up into the cockpit.

In the cabin dozens of black-and-white dials on the instrument panel glowed, needles flickered, the radar screen flashed. At a signal from Captain Jordan, the copilot took over the controls.

“Well, Vicki? How is that man?”

“He came fairly close to fainting, Captain Jordan. He’s elderly, a little overweight, and he has a heart condition. However, since he’s had therapeutic oxygen, he’s not in any distress. And his wife seems fairly satisfied with the way he looks now.”

“I’d much rather land than take chances with a passenger’s life.” Captain Jordan looked at his wrist watch, thinking. “I’ll tell you what. Observe him for ten minutes and if he shows any sign of relapse call me. We can come down at Clarkville. In any case, Vicki, we’re going to have a doctor and an ambulance on hand at New York. We’ll radio ahead to La Guardia Airport.”

“Thank you, Captain,” said Vicki. “That’s all for now, Vicki. Keep me informed.”

Vicki returned to the Bryants. Mr. Bryant was sitting up erect now; it was a relief to see that. She told them of the captain’s decision.

“I am so grateful!” Mrs. Bryant exclaimed. “I’m sure we won’t need to make a special stop.”

Mr. Bryant apparently was not a man to yield a point easily, but he did say, “Very good of you airlines people. Very good indeed.”

Vicki brought the Bryants their dinners right away, and both old people perked up as they ate the hot food. She raced through serving all her other passengers. Jean cheerfully doubled up on jobs, so that Vicki finished her in-flight chores on time.

“Do you know we haven’t sat down once since take-off?” Jean said breathlessly.

“Jean, you’ve been an angel on this trip! For a while there I thought you had four hands.”

“Save the compliments. We’re coming in for a landing in twenty minutes.”

Twenty-one minutes later they were down at La Guardia Airport. Vicki summoned the passenger agent. He gave Mr. Bryant his arm on the way out of the plane to the waiting ambulance. Vicki escorted Mrs. Bryant, walking slowly.

Vicki waited for the Bryants outside the ambulance while the doctor checked over the elderly man. She hated to leave Jean alone to say good-by to the other passengers and pick up in the cabin afterward, but she’d make it up to Jean some other time. The passenger agent had sent a man to locate the Bryants’ car and chauffeur. He would bring the car onto the airfield as near to the ambulance as possible.

The doctor stepped out and said to Vicki:

“All right, stewardess, he may go home. I think it’s safe for this gentleman to drive to the city now.”

He helped Mrs. Bryant down out of the ambulance, then Mr. Bryant. Their car pulled up at that moment. Captain Jordan came hurrying over, carrying his flight papers.

“Miss Barr, are both Bryants all right?”

“Yes, Captain. Tired but all right.”

The Bryants thanked him, and he went off. They particularly thanked Vicki. They climbed into their car, and asked Vicki if she wished to drive into metropolitan New York with them.

“It’s kind of you, but I still have some duties here.”

“Then you must come to lunch,” Mrs. Bryant said. “You’ve been a wonderful help, and I want a chance to thank you properly.”

“I was only doing my job,” said Vicki.

“Come to lunch tomorrow,” Mr. Bryant barked at her. “Can you?”

Vicki was so startled she stammered, “Y-y-yes, th-thank you.”

Mrs. Bryant smiled, and told her the address. “At twelve, Miss Barr?” Then she said an odd thing. “You know, my dear, we have a granddaughter whom we’ve never seen. Lucy. I hope she’s like you.”

Vicki must have looked puzzled, because Mrs. Bryant smiled again. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Good-by for now, little Miss Barr.”