They soared straight down the big room, as easily and gracefully as great white birds, and dropped gently when they hit the curtain at the other end, their builders running after them as eagerly as boys sailing kites.
One of the models fluttered and settled down before it reached the other side, and David's machine, which had commanded most attention because it was different, started out bravely enough, its little propeller making a busy humming as it skimmed along.

But it had gone hardly ten yards before it collapsed and ignominiously crashed to the floor.
"I'm glad of it," said Miriam above the din, for everyone had gathered about the young man to offer sympathy and congratulations at the same time.
"It's very, very clever, my boy," said Professor Blitz, "and you'll succeed yet, if you keep at it." "She wouldn't go far, David," said Grace, stroking the little model, as if it had been a pet dog, "but she's the prettiest of all, just the same." "Did it hurt it when it fell ?" Anne asked him.
"I think it broke one of its little fins," laughed David.

"It hurt me much more than itself, because it wouldn't be good and fly all the way." "Anne," called Grace, "here is some one looking for you.

It's a boy with a note." Anne looked frightened as she opened a soiled looking envelope the boy handed her.
"Is anything the matter ?" asked Jessica, seeing the expression of fear on her face.
"No--yes----," answered poor little Anne, undecidedly.

"I must go home, or rather I mustn't go the way I came.