Excerpt
ALL UP IN THE AIR
It all began because Tess Kenway became suddenly and deeply interested in aeroplanes, airships and "all sort of flying things," as Dot, the smallest Corner House girl, declared.
Perhaps one should modify that "suddenly"; for Tess had begun to think about flying—as a profession—as long ago as the winter before (and that was really a long time for a little girl of her age) when she had acted as Swiftwing the Hummingbird in the children's play of The Carnation Countess.
At any rate she said to Sammy Pinkney, who was almost their next door neighbor, only he lived "scatecornered" across Willow Street, that she wished she had an airship.
And there! "Scatecornered" must be explained too; it was an expression of Uncle Rufus' who was the Corner House girls' chief factotum and almost an heirloom in the family, for he had long served Uncle Peter Stower, who in dying had willed the beautiful old homestead in Milton to his four grand-nieces.
"Just what does 'scatecornered' mean, Uncle Rufus?" asked Dot, who delighted in polysyllables.
"Why, chile, 'scatecornered' am a pufficly good word, fo' I has used it all ma life. It's—er—well, it's sort of a short-cut for de meanin' of slantindicular an crisscrosswise; w'ich means dat it ain't straight an' ain't crooked, but sort o'—er—scatecornered. Dere, chile, now you knows."
"Yes, Uncle Rufus; thank you," said Dot, polite if she did feel rather dizzy after his explanation.
But it was with Tess, who was nearly two years older than Dot and thought herself vastly more grown up, and with Sammy Pinkney this story was begun, and one should stick to one's text.
"Yes," murmured Tess, "I wish I had an airship."
Sammy looked at her, rather awed. Lately he was beginning to feel a mite awed in Tess Kenway's company, anyway. She had always been a thoughtful child. Aunt Sarah Maltby declared she was uncanny and gave her the fidgets. Of late even the boy who desired to be a pirate found Tess puzzling.
"Huh! An airship? What would you do with it? Where would you keep it?" he finally demanded, his queries being nothing if not practical.
Really Tess had not addressed him directly. She had just audibly expressed a thought, and one that had long been in her mind in embryo. So she did not answer the neighbor boy, who was sitting beside her on the side stoop of the Corner House, rigging a self-whittled ship to sail in the horse-trough.
"You know very well it wouldn't go in the garage; and the toolshed and the henhouse—even Tom Jonah's house—are all too small. Huh! that's like a girl! Never look ahead to see what they'd do with an airship if somebody gave 'em one."
"Well, I don't s'pose anybody will," admitted Tess, with a sigh, having heard at least the last part of Sammy's speech.
"Anybody will what?" demanded Sammy, beginning to be somewhat confused, partly from not knowing what he himself had been saying.
"Give us an airship."
"I should say not!" ejaculated Sammy. "Why, Tess Kenway, an airship would cost 'most a million dollars!"
"Is that so?" she said, accepting Sammy's slight overestimate of the price of a flying machine quite placidly....