The Campfire Girls of Roselawn; Or, a Strange Message from the Air Page 17

  CHAPTER XVII

  BROADCASTING

  Darry and Burd were planning another trip on the _Marigold_, and sohad little time to give to the girl chums of Roselawn. Burd wickedlydeclared that Darry Drew was running away from home to get rid ofBelle Ringold.

  "Wherever he goes down town, she pops up like a jack-in-the-box andtries to pin him. Darry is so polite he doesn't know how to get away.But I know he wishes her mother would lock her in the nursery."

  "It is her mother's fault that Belle is such a silly," scoffed Amy."She lets Belle think she is quite grown up."

  "She'll never be grown up," growled out Darry. "Never saw such a kid.If you acted like her, Sis, I'd put you back into rompers and feed youlollipops."

  "You'd have a big chance doing anything like that to me, MasterDarry," declared his sister, smartly. "Even Dad--bless hisheart!--would not undertake to turn back the clock on me."

  Before the two young fellows left Roselawn again, they did the girls afavor that Amy and Jessie highly appreciated. It was doneinvoluntarily but was nevertheless esteemed. Mark Stratford drifted upthe Bonwit Boulevard in his big and shiny car and halted it in frontof the Norwood place to hail Darry and Burd.

  "Here's the millionaire kid," called out Alling. "Know him, girls?He's quite the fastest thing that lingers about old Yale. Zoomed overthe German lines in the war, stoking an airplane, although at thattime he was only a kid. Mark Stratford. His family are the StratfordElectric Company. Oodles of money. But Mark is a patient soul."

  "'Patient'?" repeated Jessie, wonderingly, as she and Amy accompaniedthe young fellows down to the street.

  "Sure," declared Burd. "Most fellows would be impatient, burdened withso much of the filthy lucre as Mark has. But not he. He is doing hislittle best to spend his share."

  However, and in spite of Burd's introduction, Mark Stratford proved tobe a very personable young man and did not look at all the "sport."Jessie considered that Burd was very probably fooling them about Mark.The young folks were talking like old friends in five minutes. In fiveminutes more they had piled into the car for a ride.

  Mark's car "burned up the road" so fast that in half an hour they cameto Stratfordtown where the huge plant of the Electric Company lay, andon the border of which was the large Stratford estate.

  Jessie and Amy did not care anything about the beauties of the showplace of the county. While riding over the girls had discussed oneparticular topic. And when Mark asked them where they wanted to go, orwhat they preferred to see, Jessie spoke out:

  "Oh, Mr. Stratford! take us to the plant and let us go into the radiobroadcasting room. Amy and I are just longing to see how it is done."

  "Oh, _that!_" exclaimed Mark Stratford.

  "We're crazy about radio, Mr. Stratford," agreed Amy.

  "Some radio fiends, these two," said Darry. And he told his friend towhat use the girls had already put Jessie's set for the benefit of thechurch bazaar.

  "If you girls want to see how it's done, to be sure I'll introduce youto the man in charge. Wait till we drive around there." Stratford wasas good as his word. It was a time in the afternoon when the ElectricCompany's matinee concert was being broadcasted. They went up in thepassenger elevator in the main building of the plant to a sort ofglassed-in roof garden. There were several rooms, or compartments,with glass partitions, sound-proof, and hung with curtains to cut offany echo. The young people could stare through the windows and see theperformers in front of the broadcasting sets. The girls looked at eachother and clung tightly to each other's hand.

  "Oh, Amy!" sighed Jessie.

  "If we could only get a chance to sing here!" whispered Amy inreturn.

  It did not mean much to the boys. And Mark Stratford, of course, hadbeen here time and time again. A gray-haired man with a bustlingmanner and wearing glasses came through the reception room and Markstopped him.

  "Oh, Mr. Blair!" the collegian said. "Here are some friends of minewho are regular radio bugs. Let me introduce you to Miss JessieNorwood and Miss Amy Drew. Likewise," he added, as the gentlemansmilingly shook hands with the girls, "allow me to present theircomrades in crime, Darry Drew and Burdwell Alling. These fellows helpme kill time over at Yale, to which the governor has sentenced me forfour years."

  "Mr. Blair?" repeated Jessie, looking sideways at her chum.

  "Mr. Blair?" whispered Amy, who remembered the name as well as Jessiedid.

  "That is my name, young ladies," replied the superintendent, smiling.

  "You don't know anything about a girl of our age named Blair, do you,Mr. Blair?" Jessie asked hesitatingly.

  "I have no daughters," returned the superintendent, and the expressionof his face changed so swiftly and so strangely that Jessie did notfeel that she could make any further comment upon the thought that hadstabbed her mind. After all, it seemed like sheer curiosity on herpart to ask the man about his family.

  "Just the same," she told Amy afterward, when they were in theautomobile once more, "Blair is not such a common name, do youthink?"

  "But, of course, that Bertha Blair couldn't be anything to thesuperintendent of the broadcasting station. Oh, Jessie! What awonderful program he had arranged for to-day. I am coming overto-night to listen in on that orchestral concert and hear Madame Elvasing. I would not miss it for anything."

  "Suppose we could get a chance to help entertain!" Jessie sighed."Not, of course, on the same program with such performers as these theStratford people have. But----"

  They happened to be traveling slowly and Mark overheard this. Hetwisted around in his seat to say:

  "Why didn't you ask Blair about it? You have no idea how many amateursoffer their services. And some of them he uses."

  "I'll say he does!" grumbled Burd. "Some of the singers and others Ihave listened in on have been punk."

  "Well, I'll have you know that Jessie and I wouldn't sing if we couldnot sing well," Amy said, with spirit.

  "Sure," agreed Burd, grinning. "Madame Elva wouldn't be a patch on youtwo girls singing the 'Morning Glories' Buns' or the 'MidnightRolls'."

  "Your taste in music is mighty poor, sure enough, Burd," commentedDarry. "Jessie sings all right. She's got a voice like a----"

  "Like a bird, I know," chuckled Alling. "That is just the way Ising--like a Burd."

  "I've heard of a bird called a crow," put in Mark Stratford, smilingon the two girl chums. Jessie thought he had a really nice smile."That is what your voice sounds like, Alling. You couldn't make theGlee Club in a hundred and forty years."

  "Don't say a word!" cried Burd. "I'll be a long time past singingbefore the end of that term. Ah-ha! Here we are at Roselawn."

  They got out at the Norwood place and the girls insisted upon Markcoming in to afternoon tea, which Amy and Jessie poured on the porch.The chums liked Mark Stratford and they did not believe that he wasanywhere near as "sporty" as Burd had intimated. Naturally, a fellowwho had driven a warplane and owned an airship now and often went upin it, would consider the driving of a motor-car rather tame. As forhis college record, Jessie and Amy later discovered that Mark was ahard student and was at or near the head of his class in most of hisstudies.

  "And he drives that wonderful car of his," said Amy, with approval,"like a jockey on the track."

  The girl chums did not forget the concert they expected to enjoy thatevening, but Darry and Burd left right after dinner for the mooringsof the _Marigold_ at City Island. They took Mark Stratford and someother college friends with them for a three days' trip on the yacht.

  Jessie and Amy were eager to see the _Marigold_; but their parents hadforbidden any mixed parties on the yacht until either Mr. and Mrs.Drew, or Mr. and Mrs. Norwood could accompany the young people. Thatwould come later in the summer.

  Amy ran over to the Norwood place before half past eight. The concert,Mr. Blair had told them, was to begin at nine. Jessie had learned agood deal about tuning in on the ether by this time; and there is noother part of radio knowledge more necessary if the operator wouldma
ke full use of his set.

  "The bedtime story is just concluded, Amy," Jessie said when her chumcame in. "Sit down. I am going to get that talk on 'Hairpins andHaricots' by that extremely funny newspaper man--what is his name?"

  "I don't know. What's in a name, anyhow?" answered her chum, lightly.

  Amy adjusted the earphones while her friend manipulated the slides onthe tuning coil. They did not catch the first of the talk, but theyheard considerable of it. Then something happened--just what it wasAmy had no idea. She tore off the ear-tabs and demanded:

  "What _are_ you doing, Jess? That doesn't sound like anything I everheard before. Is it static interference?"

  "It certainly is interference," admitted Jessie, trying to tune theset so as to get back upon the wave that had brought the funny talkabout 'Hairpins and Haricots.'

  But it did not work. Jessie could not get in touch with the lecture.Instead, out of the ether came one word, over and over again. And thatword in a voice that Jessie was confident must come from a woman or agirl:

  "Help! He-lp! He-e-lp!"

  Over and over again it was repeated. Amy who had put on her headharness again, snatched at her chum's arm.

  "Listen! Do you hear that?" she cried in an awed tone.

  A MYSTERY OF THE ETHER