aren't you?" she asked
softly, putting her arms round him.

"Yes," he said decidedly. "I love you very much already."

Four hundred times a minute sounded a very great deal of wing-flapping;
but Jimbo practised eagerly, and though at first he could only manage
about twice a second, or one hundred and twenty times a minute, he found
this increased very soon to a great deal more, and before long he was
able to do the full four hundred, though only for a few minutes at a
time.

He stuck to it pluckily, getting stronger every day. The governess
encouraged him as much as possible, but there was very little room for
her while he was at work, and he found the best way to practise was at
night when she was out of the way. She told him that a large bird moved
its wings about four times a second, two up-strokes and two
down-strokes; but a small bird like a partridge moved its wings so
rapidly it was impossible for the eye to distinguish or count the
strokes. A middle course of four hundred suited his own case best, and
he bent all his energies to acquire it.

He also learned that the convex outside curve of wings allowed the wind
to escape over them, while the under side, being concave, held every
breath. Thus the upward stroke did not simply counterbalance the
downward and keep him stationary. Moreover, she showed him how the
feathers underlapped each other so that the downward stroke pressed them
closely together to hold the wind, whereas in the upward stroke they
opened and separated, letting the air slip easily through them, thus
offering less resistance to the atmosphere.

By the end of a week Jimbo had practised so hard that he could keep
himself off the floor in mid-air for half an hour at a time, and even
then without feeling any great fatigue. His excitement became intense;
and, meanwhile, in his body on the nursery bed, though he did not know
it, the fever was reaching its crisis. He could think of nothing else
but the joys of flying, and what the first, awful plunge would be like,
and when Miss Lake came up to him one afternoon and whispered something
in his ear, he was so wildly happy that he hugged her for several
minutes without the slightest coaxing.

"It's bright and clear," she explained, "and Fright will not come after
us, for he fears the light, and can only fly on dark and gloomy nights."

"So we can start----?" he stammered joyfully.

"To-night," she answered, "for our first practice-flight."