anything except this space-car--equally of course, you have?"

"Yes. Knowing the general nature of the power and confident that Dick
would control it, I have already drawn up sketches for a power-plant
installation of five hundred thousand electrical horsepower, which will
enable us to sell power for less than one-tenth of a cent per
kilowatt-hour and still return twenty percent annual dividends. However,
the power-plant comes after the flyer."

"Why? Why not build the power-plant first, and take the pleasure trip
afterward?"

"There are several reasons. The principal one is that Dick and I would
rather be off exploring new worlds, while the other members of the
Seaton-Crane Company, Engineers, build the power-plant."

During the talk the men had reached the house, into which the others had
disappeared some time before. Upon Crane's invitation, Vaneman and his
daughter stayed to dinner, and Dorothy played for awhile upon Crane's
wonderful violin. The rest of the evening was spent in animated
discussion of the realization of Seaton's dreams of flying without wings
and beyond the supporting atmosphere. Seaton and Crane did their best to
explain to the non-technical visitors how such flight was possible.

"Well, I am beginning to understand it a little," said Dorothy finally.
"In plain language, it is like a big magnet or something, but different.
Is that it?"

"That's it exactly," Seaton assured her.

"What are you going to call it? It isn't like anything else that ever
was. Already this evening you have called it a bus, a boat, a kite, a
star-hound, a wagon, an aerial flivver, a sky-chariot, a space-eating
wampus, and I don't know what else. Even Martin has called it a vehicle,
a ship, a bird, and a shell. What is its real name?"

"I don't know. It hasn't got any that I know of. What would you suggest,
Dottie?"

"I don't know what general name should be applied to them, but for this
one there is only one possible name, 'The Skylark.'"

"Exactly right, Dorothy," said Crane.

"Fine!" cried Seaton. "And you shall christen it, Dottie, with a big
Florence flask full of absolute vacuum. 'I christen you "The Skylark."
BANG!'"

As the guests were leaving, at a late hour, Vaneman said:

"Oh, yes. I bought an extra _Clarion_ as we came out. It tells a wild
tale of an explosion so violent that science cannot explain it. I don't
suppose it is true, but it may make interesting reading for you two
scientific sharps. G