She gave him one of her sweet, bright smiles in payment for the kindly tone.
“I _am_ tired,” she returned. “For two mornings I have been up at four o’clock.”
Suddenly it occurred to her that he might assist in unraveling the problem. She turned to him and said:
“Can you spare me a few minutes, Mr. Burthon? I—I want to ask your advice.”
He glanced at her curiously and sat down in a chair facing her.
“Tell me all about it,” he said encouragingly. “Not long ago it was I asking for advice, and you were good enough to favor me. Now it is logically your turn.”
“My brother,” said she, “has invented an airship.”
He gave a little start of surprise and an eager look spread over his face. Then he smiled at her tolerantly.
“All the world has gone crazy over aviation,” he remarked. “I, myself, witnessed the flights at Dominguez Field and became strongly impressed with the desire to fly. I suppose your brother contracted the fever, too, and has made a model he thinks will float in the air.”
“Oh, it is not a model,” she gravely replied. “Stephen is an expert mechanic and has worked on many of the most famous aëroplanes in the country. He has recently built a complete airship of his own, and this morning I watched him make a very successful flight in it.”
“Indeed?” he exclaimed, the eager look returning. “There is money in a good airship, Miss Kane. This is the psychological moment to forge ahead in aviation, which will soon become the world’s popular mode of transit. It is easy to build an airship; yes. Perhaps I could build one myself. But where many will try, many will fail.”
“And some will succeed,” she added, smiling.
He examined her expressive face with interest.
So Orissa gave him the history of the aircraft, from its conception to the final triumph and wreckage and its conquest by the bull. Incidentally she told how they had mortgaged their home and the orange crop to get the needed money, and finally explained the condition they were now in—success within their grasp, but no means of taking advantage of it.
Mr. Burthon was very attentive throughout, his eyes fixed upon Orissa’s lovely face and watching its shades of anxiety and exaltation as the story progressed. While she enthusiastically described Steve’s aircraft, her eyes sparkling and a soft flush mantling her cheeks, the man scarcely heard what she said, so intent was he in admiring her. He did not permit his fair secretary to notice his mood, however, and the girl was too earnestly engaged to heed her employer’s intent gaze. At the conclusion of her story she asked: