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     Emmaline Cayley was a pioneering scientist. She had declared this when she turned eleven. She was a leader in the field of aeronautics,2 as she would tell anyone who would listen; at least, she would be one day. The girls she knew said that Emmaline was mad and that she probably still believed in fairies. Emmaline didn’t care what other girls thought. She didn’t care about dolls or new dresses or tea parties; she cared about aeronautics. She was an aviatrix.3 By her thirteenth birthday, Emmaline had decided that she was going to invent a flying machine. That was more than a year ago in Calcutta, India, where she had been brought up.

 Emmaline Cayley was a pioneering scientist. She had declared this when she turned eleven. She was a leader in the field of aeronautics,2 as she would tell anyone who would listen; at least, she would be one day. The girls she knew said that Emmaline was mad and that she probably still believed in fairies. Emmaline didn’t care what other girls thought. She didn’t care about dolls or new dresses or tea parties; she cared about aeronautics. She was an aviatrix.3 By her thirteenth birthday, Emmaline had decided that she was going to invent a flying machine. That was more than a year ago in Calcutta, India, where she had been brought up.

 Emmaline Cayley was a pioneering scientist. She had declared this when she turned eleven. She was a leader in the field of aeronautics,2 as she would tell anyone who would listen; at least, she would be one day. The girls she knew said that Emmaline was mad and that she probably still believed in fairies. Emmaline didn’t care what other girls thought. She didn’t care about dolls or new dresses or tea parties; she cared about aeronautics. She was an aviatrix.3 By her thirteenth birthday, Emmaline had decided that she was going to invent a flying machine. That was more than a year ago in Calcutta, India, where she had been brought up.

 Emmaline Cayley was a pioneering scientist. She had declared this when she turned eleven. She was a leader in the field of aeronautics,2 as she would tell anyone who would listen; at least, she would be one day. The girls she knew said that Emmaline was mad and that she probably still believed in fairies. Emmaline didn’t care what other girls thought. She didn’t care about dolls or new dresses or tea parties; she cared about aeronautics. She was an aviatrix.3 By her thirteenth birthday, Emmaline had decided that she was going to invent a flying machine. That was more than a year ago in Calcutta, India, where she had been brought up.

A few years later, Cayley tried again with a bigger, better craft. This time, Sir George “volunteered” his coachman, a light skinny man (just the type he needed) to fly the glider. A team of big, brawny farmhands from Cayley’s estate hauled it up a hill above a valley known as Brompton Dale. The machine was a marvel. The lads pushed, and it rose in the air, soared two hundred yards and landed in a meadow with a splintering sickening crash. The coachman, John Appleby, tottered from the wreckage, limped back up the hill and resigned on the spot. . . .