“It’s like a dream!” sighed Peggy, “just like a dream.”

“Now, don’t get fainty, Peggy, or Miss Margaret Prescott,” admonished Jess; “as Jimsy says, ‘brace up,’ the best is yet to come.”

A man came up to where they were sitting.  In his hand he had a slip of pink paper.

Roy reached out for it, but the man said that he had instructions to hand it only to Peggy.

“It’s the check for the prize-winning money,” he explained.

Peggy took it and sat gazing at it for a minute.

“Oh, Peggy, what are you going to do with it?” asked Bess.  “Buy some dresses or hats or——­”

“None of those things,” said Peggy; “I made up my mind before I went into the race as to what I would do with the money if I won.”

“And what’s that?” asked Miss Prescott.

“Why, it must go toward The Wren’s education,” rejoined the girl.

“Oh, Peggy, you darling!” cried Jess, flinging her arms round her chum, in full view of the grandstand and the crowd below.

As for The Wren, she gazed up at the girl with wide-open brown eyes.

“You are too good to me—­too good,” she said simply; but there was a plaintive quiver in her voice.

Mr. James Parker sat on the porch of his home, in the foothills of the Big Smokies, gazing out over the landscape.  Seemingly he was watching for something.

“He done watch de sky lak he ’spected de bottom drap clean out uv it pretty soon,” said Uncle Jupe, his factotum, to his wife Mandy.

“‘Gwan, you fool nigger, don’ you know dat dem flying boys an’ gals is to be hayr ter-day?”

“Oh, dat’s jes a joke, dat is,” rejoined Uncle Jupe; “how’s they all goin’ ter fly ah’d lak to know.”

“I don’ know, but dat’s what Marse Parker says.”

“Den he’s been grocersly imposed upon by somebody.  Ain’t likely dat ef de Lawd had meant us ter fly he’d have give us wings, wouldn’t he?”

“Go ‘long, now, Don’ flossyfying roun’ hyar.  You git out an’ hoe dat cohn.  Look libely, now.  You git it done fo’ dinner or dere’ll be trouble.”

Uncle Jupe shuffled out of the kitchen, but in a minute he came rushing back.

“Wha’ de matter?” demanded his wife, noticing his wildly staring eyes and open mouth; “you gone fool crazy?”

“M-m-m-m-mandy, it’s true!  It’s true!” gasped Uncle Jupe.

“Wha’s true,—­dat you all’s crazy?”

“Yes—­no, it’s ‘bout dem flyin’ things.  Dey’s comin’.  Come and look wid your own eyes.”

Mandy shuffled out.  There, sure enough, coming toward them, was a flock of what at first sight appeared to be immense birds.  But it was the young sky cruisers nearing their destination.

On the porch Mr. Parker stood up and waved his newspaper.  Ten minutes later the aeroplanes came to earth in the smooth front lawn, while Uncle Jupe restrained a strong inclination to run away.

“Dey ain’t canny, dem things,” he declared; “ef de Lord had wanted us to fly he’d have given us wings, I guess.