y, and hasn't Col. Roosevelt's daughter
been up in one, and isn't there a regular school for women fliers at
Washington, and--and----?"

"Didn't the suffragettes promise to drop 'Votes for Women' placards from
the air upon the devoted heads of the British Parliament, you up to date
young person?" finished Roy, teasingly.

Peggy made a dash for him but the boy dodged into the shed, closely
followed by his sister.

But as she crossed the threshold Peggy's wild swoop became a decorous
stroll, so to speak. She paused, all out of breath, beneath a spreading
expanse of yellow balloon silk, braced and strengthened with brightly
gleaming wires and stays,--one wing of the big monoplane upon which her
brother had spent all his spare time for the past year. The flying thing
was almost completed now. It stood in its shed, with its scarab-like
wings outspread like a newly alighted yellow butterfly, which, by a
stroke of ill luck, had found itself installed in a gloomy cage instead
of the bright, open spaces of its native element.

In one corner of the shed was a large crate surrounded by some smaller
ones. The large one had been partially opened and Peggy gave a little
squeal of delight as her eyes fell on it.

"Oh, Roy, that's it?"

"That's it," rejoined the boy proudly, lifting a bit of sacking from the
contents of the opened crate, "isn't it a beauty?"

The lifted covering had exposed a gleam of bright, scarlet enamel, and
the glint of polished brass. To Roy the contents of that crate was the
splendid new motor for his aeroplane. But to Peggy, just then, it was
something far different. A bit of a mist dimmed her shining eyes for an
instant. Her voice grew very sober.

"Three thousand dollars--oh, Roy, it scares me!"

Roy crossed the shed and threw an arm about his sister's neck.

"Don't be frightened, sis," he breathed in an assuring tone, "it's going
to be all right. Why, can't you see that the very first thing that
happens is a chance to win $5,000?"

"I know that. But that contest is not to come off for more than a month
and--and supposing someone should have a better machine than you?"

For an instant that air of absolute assurance, which truth to tell, had
made Roy some enemies, and which was his greatest fault, left him. His
face clouded and he looked troubled. But it was as momentary as the
cloud-shadow that passes over a summer wheat field.

"It'll be all right, sis," he rejoined, confidently, "and if it is