ranged against
the wall. "Don't expect anything wonderful of mine," he added. "It's
only in the first stages so far. I'm afraid she'll break down, but she's
a great little machine, just the same. Isn't she, mother?"

"She is wonderful, I think, David," replied Mrs. Nesbit, who was a very
shy, quiet woman, almost entirely wrapped up in her only son. Miriam had
always been too much for her, and she had long since given up attempting
to rule or direct her brilliant, willful daughter.

"Mrs. Nesbit," said Grace, "this is Anne Pierson, one of the brightest
girls in the freshman class."

"How do you do?" said Mrs. Nesbit cordially, giving the girl her hand.
"You are a newcomer, are you not? I haven't heard Miriam speak of you."

"She is a newcomer, mother, but I hear she's giving your daughter Miriam
a stiff pull for first place," said David teasingly.

"I wish you'd keep quiet, David," exclaimed his sister angrily. "You
always talk too much."

"Miriam!" remonstrated her mother.

"Miss Nesbit," said Miss Leece in a disagreeable, harsh voice, "will
have no trouble, I think, in holding her own."

The teacher gave Anne such a glare from her pale blue eyes that the poor
child shrank behind Grace in embarrassment.

"Dear, dear," murmured Mrs. Nesbit helplessly. She disliked exceedingly
the scenes to which her daughter often subjected the family.

David only laughed good-naturedly.

"The exhibition is about to begin," he said, and disappeared into the
room where the ships were to be put through their performances.

In a few moments six young airship builders appeared, each carrying in
his arms the result of his summer's labors. There was vigorous applause
from everybody except Miriam, who was too angry with her brother to
enjoy the spectacle.

The aeroplanes were all copies of well-known models, except David's,
which was of an entirely new and original design of his own invention.
It looked something like a flying fish, the girls thought, with its
slender, oblong body, gauzy fins at the sides and a funny little forked
tail at the stern.

The models were too light for machinery, so rubber bands, secured
cris-cross in the bows, when suddenly released with a snap gave the
little ships the impetus they needed to fly the length of the gymnasium.

Only four of the six, however, were destined to fly that evening. They
soared straight down the big room, as easily and gracefully as great
white birds, and dropped gently whe