Jane Stewardess of the Air Lines Part 13

"Maybe not, but they'll hear about you," Grace insisted.

In the smoke-green uniform Jane was indeed an attractive figure. The coat was cut smartly and there were fas.h.i.+onable box pleats in the skirt. The beret, set at a jaunty angle, had only one ornament, a pair of silver wings. Shoes and hose to match the suit completed the ensemble.

Jane took a final glance in the mirror. What she saw there was pleasing and she ran downstairs, the others following her closely.

"I'm off on my first trip," she called to Mrs. Murphy, who was reading in the front room. "I'll be in Chicago tomorrow morning."

"A safe trip, bless you," called Mrs. Murphy, who had taken an exceedingly motherly interest in the girls.

"Will you bring us back if we go to the field?" Alice asked the driver of the airport car.

"Sorry, Miss, but I'm through in fifteen minutes. This is my last trip to town."

"Just our luck," grumbled Alice. "You'll have to start off on your first trip without an audience," she told Jane.

"I'd like to have you there, but maybe I won't be quite as nervous if I am alone," admitted Jane. She entered the cab and the driver closed the door.

Sue stuck her head through the lower window.

"When will you be back?" she asked.

"I haven't the slightest idea. Not until day after tomorrow at the earliest."

The cab lurched ahead and with the good-byes of her friends ringing in her ears Jane started for the field and her first a.s.signment.

Chapter Eleven

An Unexpected Delay

The airport was ablaze with light when the car pulled up at the administration building, which meant that Mrs. Van Verity Vanness'

special plane was about to land.

Jane thanked the driver and hastened into the operations office on the first floor. A teletype was clicking out the latest weather reports and the radio operator was busy giving the pilot of the special plane final information on the wind and visibility at Cheyenne.

Miss Comstock, who had been talking to the night chief of operations, turned to Jane.

"I was afraid we weren't going to locate you," the chief stewardess said, visibly relieved at Jane's arrival. "This is an important trip and I knew I could count on you to make a good impression."

The night operations chief joined them.

"This special is going through ahead of everything," he told Jane, "and we can't have it delayed if Mrs. Van Verity Vanness gets air sick and they have to slow the schedule or set the s.h.i.+p down at some field to wait until she feels better. In other words, it's up to you to see that she is so comfortable from now on and so busy she won't have time to think about complaining."

"Is she ill now?"

"Salt Lake said she looked like a ghost and Rock Springs just cussed when I asked him how she looked. One thing, we're going to get that special off this field and from then on it's up to you to see that Mrs.

Van Verity Vanness holds together until we land in Chicago."

Charlie Fischer strolled in and glanced at the weather report coming in on the teletype.

"Plenty of visibility and a good tail wind. I'm going to take that three-engined demon up where there's plenty of room and ride it for all it's worth. You can put me down for about 160 miles an hour from here to Omaha," he told the night operations chief.

"If you can do that, you'll whittle better than half an hour off the schedule we've worked out," said the night chief.

Charlie turned to Jane.

"You going along?" he asked.

"It's my first regular trip."

"Means extra ballast," grumbled Charlie.

"Extra ballast nothing," retorted the night chief. "Our billion-dollar pa.s.senger is air sick and unless we put a stewardess aboard and get Mrs. Van Verity Vanness feeling better p.r.o.nto, this flight will be a washout and about $10,000 will fly out of this airway's sock and you can imagine how the general manager would like that."

"You mean we're getting $10,000 for this trip across the country?"

asked Charlie incredulously.

"She paid before she started the trip in 'Frisco, but if we don't land her in New York on time she'll stop payment on the check. So when you're in the air tonight just bend an ear to whatever this little lady has to say, for if you do some rough flying and the G. M. hears about it, one Charlie Fischer will have a lot of explaining to do."

"The special's coming in right now," called the radio operator. They turned to the full-length windows which looked out on the field. The wing lights of the plane were swooping down and a moment later the big s.h.i.+p rolled down the runway and nosed toward the hangar.

"I've got a complete kit ready," Miss Comstock told Jane. "There's plenty of salad and hot coffee, fresh fruit, and I put in an extra thermos bottle of bouillon. I imagine your pa.s.senger is nervous and scared as much as anything. Make her comfortable and talk to her.

Remember that the reputation of the stewardess service may depend on your work tonight."

Almost before the tri-motor had stopped rolling the ground crew, enlarged to speed the refueling of the special, was swarming over the plane. Only five minutes had been allowed for the Cheyenne stop and it meant fast work on the part of every man.

Jane and Miss Comstock hastened toward the cabin. As they reached it the co-pilot threw open the door.

"For heaven's sake, hurry," he begged. "I'm afraid this woman is going to faint."

Jane got a glimpse of the white, drawn face of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and she knew that she was going to be in for some busy minutes. The landing stage was wheeled up to the plane and Jane hurried into the cabin. The one pa.s.senger aboard the special was clinging to the co-pilot and Jane gently disengaged her arms and placed them about her own shoulders.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was sobbing softly. "I'll never be able to go on. I'm too ill."

Jane didn't argue with her, but with the aid of Miss Comstock, helped the pa.s.senger out of the plane and into the cool, sweet night air. It was then that she got her first good look at the woman she was to care for on the trip to Chicago.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was between sixty-five and seventy. The cheeks were still full and bore few wrinkles, but the hands gave away the fact that Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was well past middle age.

"I can't walk. Don't make me," she begged.

"We'll only take a few steps," said Jane, her own strong arms supporting the older woman. "Breath deeply and enjoy the air. Don't think about flying."

"But I've got to get to New York." There was a sob in the older woman's voice, and she shuddered as she looked at the hulking tri-motor. Even a thought of returning to the plane struck terror into her heart.

Jane turned to Miss Comstock and whispered a suggestion.