all
the Aeroplane. Pancake, they call it." And the Pilot, who is an old hand
and has learned a lot of things in the air that mere earth-dwellers know
nothing about, distinctly heard the Pilot Tube, whose mouth is open to
the air to receive its pressure, stammer. "Oh Lor! I've got an earwig
already--hope to goodness the Rigger blows me out when I come down--and
this morning air simply fills me with moisture; I'll never keep the
Liquid steady in the Gauge. I'm not sure of my rubber connections
either."

"Oh, shut up!" cry all the Wires in unison, "haven't we got our troubles
too? We're in the most horrible state of tension. It's simply murdering
our Factor of Safety, and how we can possibly stand it when we get the
Lift only the Designer knows."

"That's all right," squeak all the little Wire loops, "we're that
accommodating, we're sure to elongate a bit and so relieve your
tension." For the whole Aeroplane is braced together with innumerable
wires, many of which are at their ends bent over in the form of loops
in order to connect with the metal fittings on the spars and
elsewhere--cheap and easy way of making connection.

"Elongate, you little devils, would you?" fairly shout the Angles of
Incidence, Dihedral and Stagger, amid a chorus of groans from all parts
of the Aeroplane. "What's going to happen to us then? How are we going
to keep our adjustments upon which good flying depends?"

"Butt us and screw us,"[9] wail the Wires. "Butt us and screw us, and
death to the Loops. That's what we sang to the Designer, but he only
looked sad and scowled at the Directors."

"And who on earth are they?" asked the Loops, trembling for their
troublesome little lives.

"Oh earth indeed," sniffed Efficiency, who had not spoken before, having
been rendered rather shy by being badly compromised in the Drawing
Office. "I'd like to get some of them up between Heaven and Earth,
I would. I'd give 'em something to think of besides their Debits and
Credits--but all the same the Designer will get his way in the end. I'm
his Best Girl, you know, and if we could only get rid of the Directors,
the little Tin god, and the Man-who-takes-the-credit, we should be quite
happy." Then she abruptly subsides, feeling that perhaps the less said
the better until she has made a reputation in the Air. The matter of
that Compromise still rankled, and indeed it does seem hardly fit that
a bold bad Tin god should flirt with Efficiency. You see there was