Monsieur came home from his sanitarium, and seems a lot improved. The weather is lovely, anyhow, and he stays outdoors a good deal, so I suppose that helps, too. Carol and I have had several interesting talks with him. You can't help seeing a good deal of your neighbors in this shut-off spot around the Green, when the weather is nice, and even Monsieur seems to have become used to strolling over and having little friendly chats with us. He has "thawed out" a lot, and actually seems quite human _now_. The Imp is still his favorite, of course, but he has come to realize _our_ existence when she isn't about. What I wanted specially to write about to-night was the delightful time we had to-day. Louis gave us all a treat, and besides providing such a good time, he also gave us the surprise of our lives. There was to be a big aviation exhibition over in Bridgeton this afternoon, and yesterday Louis gave us all invitations to go with him and see it. He said he had unusually good seats on the flying field. It was something we wouldn't have missed for anything, and so we all went,--Dave, Carol, and myself, and even the Imp. Louis said he had invited Monsieur, too, but Monsieur did not care to go, not feeling as well as usual to-day. I've never seen an aëroplane near by before. To tell the truth, the nearest I ever _did_ see one was probably a thousand feet up in the air, sailing over our house one time. We had gorgeous seats right in front, and could see everything plainly. I was so thrilled when the first one rolled out and soared up majestically that I could have risen and shouted myself hoarse. Carol had to pull me down once, to keep me from tumbling right over the railing in my excitement. But that was nothing to what was to come. We were so absorbed that we didn't notice that after a while Louis slipped away and disappeared. What was our astonishment to see him suddenly strolling down the field in a regular aviator's costume, with a helmet in his hand. He came over to us, laughing, and said: "I know I've given you all a shock, that is, all except Dave. He's been in the secret. But I might as well up and confess my crimes now. I've been mad about this aviation business for a year or more, and I have been studying it secretly for some time. A fellow I know here in Bridgeton has a machine and is to fly to-day. His name is Page Calvin. He hasn't gone up yet. I've studied and worked on his machine till I know it by heart, but I've never been up in it yet. To-day he's going to take me up, and if I stand it all right,--some people can't, you know,--why then it's aviation for _me_, in preference to everything else!" Well, we were so thunderstruck that we couldn't say a word for a moment, and just gasped. At last I managed to stammer: "And--and is Dave going in for this, too?"