– a regular full-time job. I'm not sure what – not selling planes, for I don't believe I'd care for that. And not the mail – unless I can't get anything else. You don't happen to know of any openings, do you, Mr. Pitcairn?"
"Let me see," he said. "Things are a little slow now. Of course there are the air-transportation companies, but their routes are about as cut-and-dried as the mail pilot's… I take it you would rather have a little more excitement… There's crop dusting, during the summer. You have heard of that, no doubt?"
"Yes, I have read about it."
"You know, then, that one plane flying over a field can spray as many plants in a day as a hundred of the ordinary spraying machines?"
His listeners gasped in astonishment. What marvelous advances in progress aviation was bringing about!
"I happen to know of a company in the South that is just forming," he continued. "Because of lack of capital, they are in great need of pilots with planes of their own. If you are interested, I am sure they would be glad to take you on."
"That sounds very interesting," agreed Linda, eagerly. "I'm sure I'd like that. And an autogiro ought to be especially adapted for this kind of thing. I could fly so low – and land so easily – "
"Exactly! Incidentally, you'd be doing our company a big favor by showing the public new uses for an autogiro. If Miss Carlton, of international reputation, flies anywhere, the account of it is sure to be in the newspapers!"
"I wouldn't count too much on that, Mr. Pitcairn," protested Linda, modestly. "I really am not 'news' any more… But I shall be grateful for the name of this firm, if you will write it down for me. Where is it located?"
"In Georgia – the southern part," he informed her. "Here is the address," he added, handing her a card. "And I will write myself today to tell them of their good fortune!"
"Georgia!" repeated Louise. "It's going to be awfully hot there, Linda. Compared with Green Falls – or even Spring City."
"Why not pick a job in Canada?" suggested Ted. "You'd like Canada, if you didn't choose the coldest part of the year to visit it."
Louise shuddered at the memory of their adventure during the preceding Christmas holidays.
"I never want to see Canada again!" she said. "And I don't believe Linda does either!"
It was not the memory of that cold night in the Canadian woods, or of the cruelty of the police, however, that made Linda frown and hesitate now. Nor did the heat of the South trouble her – weather was all in the day's work to her. But the thought of the distance between Georgia and Ohio, and what such a separation might mean to her Aunt Emily, deterred her from accepting the offer immediately. It hardly seemed right to be away all winter and spring, and then to go far off again in the summer.
"Would I have to promise to do this all summer, if I took it on?" she inquired.
"No, certainly not. A month would be enough, for the first time. That would give you August with your family, Miss Carlton, before you accepted a regular aviation job in the fall."
This sounded much better to Linda, and she promised to write within the nest week, if her father agreed.
It was lots of fun riding back to Spring City in her autogiro the following day, although she flew alone, for Louise wanted to return with Ted. Without a mishap of any kind she brought the "Ladybug" down on the field behind her house.
When she entered her home, she found that her father had arrived during her absence. He was waiting for her in the library.
"Daddy!" she cried, joyfully, for Mr. Carlton's visits were always a pleasant surprise to his only child. "You came at just the right time! Come out and see my Bug!"
"Must you call it that, Linda?" asked her Aunt Emily, who, like all good housekeepers detested every sort of insect.
Linda laughed.
"Take a look at it, Aunt Emily, and see whether you could think of a better name."
Miss Carlton peered through the screen door.
"Where is it?" she asked.
"Come out on the porch, and you can see it," replied Linda.
Dragging her father and her aunt each by a hand, she gleefully skipped through the door.
"There!" she cried, as one who displays a marvel.
At the top of the hill, on the field behind the lovely Colonial house, they saw the new possession. Or rather, the top of the autogiro, for it was not wholly visible.
"It looks like a clothes-dryer to me," remarked Miss Carlton. "Or a wind-mill."
"But you agree that I couldn't call it my 'Clothes-dryer,' or my 'Wind-mill,' don't you, Aunt Emily? The words are too long. Besides, Lou thought of the cleverest name – the 'Ladybug.' But you needn't worry, Auntie, she won't ever creep into your spotless house!"
"I should hope not!"
"In a way, Emily," observed Linda's father, "it's a good name as far as you are concerned. You hate planes – and you hate bugs!"
"Only, Aunt Emily is going to love my autogiro," insisted Linda, putting her arm affectionately about the older woman, who had been the only mother she had ever known. "One of my biggest reasons for choosing an autogiro was because it is the safest flying machine known." Her tone grew soft, so low that her father could not hear, and she added, with her head turned aside, "I do want you to know that I care about your feelings, Aunt Emily."
Miss Carlton's eyes grew misty; Linda had always been so sweet, so thoughtful! Her niece couldn't help it, if she had a marvelous brain, and a mechanical mind. No wonder she wanted to use them!
"It's going to be the ambition of my life to convert Aunt Emily to flying," she announced, in a gay tone. "See if I don't, Daddy!"
"I hope so," he said. "How about taking me up for a little fly?"
"A fly?" repeated Linda, playfully. "You a fly – and my new plane a bug! Oh, think of poor Aunt Emily!"
"Now, Linda, I do believe you're getting silly!"
But already she was pulling her father down the steps, eager to show off her beloved possession.
Mr. Carlton proved almost as enthusiastic as his daughter about it. When they returned to the house, he laughingly told his sister that he was thinking of buying one for himself, to use to fly back and forth from New York, where his business was located.
Miss Carlton groaned.
"Then we'll have two flying maniacs in the house!" she exclaimed.
"No – Linda and I will usually be up in the air," he corrected, "not often in the house."
Linda had scarcely time to change from her flyer's suit into an afternoon dress, and no chance at all to talk with her father about Mr. Pitcairn's suggestion about a job, when Ralph Clavering drove over to see her. Linda was delighted, of course; here was another person to whom she could display her autogiro. Ralph was a licensed pilot, too, although with him flying was only a secondary interest, and he had never had his own plane.
"Come out and see my 'Ladybug'!" she
