be pleasant.

Springing to her feet, she moved up the aisle to see that the airplane load of traveling salesmen forward had the papers, pencils, magazines and pillows they needed.

“So you’re a sample,” said the youth as she returned to her seat. “Don’t know as I want a full bottle after all.”

“In the end you’ll take it.” She was smiling now. “Or someone will be setting up a marble marker where little Willie lies. And that,” she added slowly, “would be too bad.”

She spoke, not of herself, but her attitude toward aviation. He knew this. She could read it in his eyes.

“Tha—thanks for these few kind words,” he replied rather lamely.

Five minutes later this young man, who went by the name of William VanGeldt and whose family evidently were possessed of considerable wealth, was speaking in glowing tones of his mother. He had, the young stewardess discovered, beneath his thin coating of indifference to the serious things of life, a warm heart full of appreciation for the ones who had given of their best that his life might be well worth living.

“He’ll take the full bottle,” she whispered to herself. “And he’ll get to like it.” She was to learn the truth of these words in days that were to come.