“Why, you know you are dying with curiosity yourself, to know what’s on that signboard,” parried Roy.

“And I suppose you’re not,” pouted Peggy in mock indignation.  “However, I’ll get the field glasses to oblige you—­just once.”

“As if you won’t try to secure the first peek through them!” laughed Roy, as sunny Peggy tripped off across the lawn to a big shed in the rear of the Prescott home, where the aeroplanes and their appurtenances were kept.

She soon was back with the field glasses, and, as Roy had prophesied, raised them to her eyes first.  Having adjusted the focus, she scrutinized the sign carefully.  By this time the big board had been raised horizontally above the doors and was being fixed in position.

Suddenly Peggy gave a little squeal of astonishment and lowered the magnifiers.

“Well, what is it?” chaffed Roy; “an anarchist bomb factory or an establishment for raising goats, or something that will “butt in” just as much on our peace and quiet, or——­”

“Roy Prescott,” enunciated Peggy, severely shaking one pink-tipped finger under Roy’s freckled nose, “this is not a subject for jesting.”

“Never more serious in my life, Sis.  If you could have seen your own face as you peeked through those glasses——­”

Peggy stuffed the binoculars into her brother’s brown hands.

“Here, look for yourself,” she ordered.  Her voice was so imperious that Roy obeyed immediately.

An instant later his sister’s expression of dumfounded amazement was mirrored on his own straightforward, good-looking countenance.

“Well, as Bud used to say out West, ’if that ain’t the beatingest’!” he gasped.

“What did you read?” demanded Peggy breathlessly.  “Repeat it so that I may be sure my eyes didn’t play me a trick.”

“Not likely, Sis; the letters are big enough.  They show up on that red painted barn of a place like a big freckle on a pretty girl’s chin.”

Then he repeated slowly, mimicking a boy reciting a lesson: 

“The Mortlake Aeroplane Company.  Well, wouldn’t that jar you?”

“Roy!” reproved Peggy.

“There’s no other way to express it, Sis,” protested the boy.  “Why, that’s the concern that’s been advertising so much recently.  Just to think, it was right at our door, and we never knew it.”

“And that hateful old Mr. Harding is interested in it, too, oh!”

The exclamation and its intonation expressed Peggy’s dislike of the gentleman mentioned.

“It’s a scheme oh his part to make trouble for us, I’ll bet on it,” burst out Roy.  “But this time I guess it’s no phantom airship, but the real thing.  What time is that naval lieutenant coming to look over the Prescott aeroplane, Peggy?”

“Some time to-day.  He mentioned no particular hour.”

“Do you think it possible that he is also going to take in that outfit down the road?”