“Yes, I recollect his fake aeroplane that scared the life out of you,” grinned Roy.

“Well,” pursued Peggy, not deigning to notice this remark, “I guess they decided that Mr. Mortlake would be a bit er—­er—­overweight isn’t it called? so they sent for old Mr. Harding’s son to manage the Cobweb at the tests.”

“Jove, that must be it.  Makes it rather awkward, though.  Somehow I don’t much fancy Master Fanning.”

“As if we hadn’t good reason to despise him.  Hark! there goes the Cobweb now!”

A droning buzz was borne to their ears.  Running to the window they saw the Mortlake aeroplane whiz by at a fair height.  It was going fast and a male figure, tall and slight, was at the wheel.  In the stern seat Regina Mortlake’s rubicund aviation costume could be made out.

[Illustration:  Running to the window they saw the Mortlake aeroplane whiz by at a fair height.]

“Fanning has certainly turned out to be a good driver of aeroplanes,” commented Roy, as he watched; “see that flaw strike them!  There! he brought the Cobweb through it like an old general of the upper regions.”

Peggy had to admit that Fanning Harding did seem to be an expert at his work; but she did it regretfully.

“He gives me the creeps,” she volunteered.

“There’s nothing creepy about his aeroplane work, though,” laughed Roy, “I shouldn’t have believed he could have picked up so much in such a short time.”

But a bigger surprise lay in store for the young Prescotts.  That afternoon they had, as visitors, no one less than Fanning Harding and Regina Mortlake.  While Peggy and the daughter of the designer of the Mortlake aeroplane chatted in one corner, Fanning placed his arm on Roy’s shoulder and drew him out upon the veranda where Miss Prescott sat with her embroidery.

“I know you don’t like me, Roy, and you never did,” he said insinuatingly, “but I’ve changed a lot since I was in Sandy Beach before.  Let’s let bygones be bygones and be friends again.  More especially as in a few days we’ll be pitted against each other at the naval tests.”

“Of course, if you are genuinely sorry for all the harm you tried to do us, I’ve nothing more to say,” said Roy, “I’m willing to be friends, but although I may forgive, it’s going to be hard to forget.”

“Oh, that will come in time,” said Fanning, airily, “I’m a changed fellow since I went west.”

But in spite of Fanning’s protestations Roy could not help feeling a sensation of mistrust and suspicion toward the youth.  There was something unnatural even in this sudden move toward friendship.

“It’s ungenerous, ungentlemanly,” Roy protested to himself; but somehow the feeling persisted that Fanning was not to be trusted.

“How prettily you do your hair,” Peggy was remarking to Regina Mortlake in the meantime.

She looked with genuine admiration at the glossy black waves which the other had drawn back over her ears in the French style.