vehicle for passengers or freight. How far he had
progressed in this there was no time for him to tell before the end came.
But Roy, interested already in aeronautics at school, where he had been
president of "The High Fliers"--a model aeroplane association,--eagerly
took up his father's desire that he would try to carry on his work, and
began to take lessons in flying.

In the shed which had been Mr. Prescott's workshop the framework of an
aeroplane already stood. And with the aid of what money his father had
left him, Roy had carried on the work till now it was almost completed.
But the three thousand dollars which had gone for the motor had
completely exhausted the lad's legacy. As Peggy put it, all their eggs
were in an "aerial basket."

But how much Peggy had aided him, in what had, in the last few months
possessed all his thoughts, Roy did not guess. To what extent her
encouragement had spurred him on to surmount seemingly unconquerable
difficulties, and how she had actually aided him in constructing the
machine, his ambition never realized. Not innately selfish, Roy was yet
too used to having his own way to attribute his success to any one but
himself.

Sometimes, brave, loyal little Peggy, try as she might, could not
disguise this from herself, and it pained her a good deal. But she had
uncomplainingly, ungrudgingly, aided her brother, without hoping for, or
expecting, the appreciation she sometimes felt she was really entitled
to. But her great love for her brother kept Peggy from ever betraying to
him or any one else an iota of her inner feelings.

So intent had the brother and sister been on their talk that neither of
them had noticed, while they conversed, that a big four-door touring car,
aglitter with gleaming maroon paint, and with a long, low hood concealing
a powerful engine, had glided up to the white gate in the picket fence
surrounding Miss Prescott's old fashioned cottage.

From it a frank, pleasant-faced lad and an unusually striking girl, tall,
slender and with a glossy mass of black hair coiled attractively on her
shapely head, had alighted.

Hearing the sound of voices from the open door of the shed in which The
Golden Butterfly, as Peggy had christened it, was nearing completion,
they, without ceremony, at once made their way toward it. Peggy, glancing
up from her sad reverie at the sound of footsteps, gave a glad little cry
as she beheld the visitors standing framed in the sunlight of t