CHAPTER XX
THE TIME OF THEIR LIVES
Doctor Dale heard their shout and waited with his genial smile till the four boys came panting up to him.
"We've got a sort of idea, Doctor Dale," explained Bob, stammering in his eagerness. "And—and we would like to speak to you about it if you have time."
"I can always spare some for you boys," the doctor assured him heartily. "Come on in, fellows, and let's hear about this idea. Something connected with radio, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir," answered Bob, as Doctor Dale opened the parsonage door and the boys crowded eagerly after him into the cozy study.
The doctor listened with interest while Bob outlined the plan to him, assisted by frequent interruptions from the other boys.
And if the chums had expected enthusiasm from this good friend of theirs, they were certainly not disappointed. The doctor was jubilant over the idea and readily consented to giving his time unreservedly for the purpose of making the affair a great success.
They set the date of the concert for the next day, which was Saturday, and added the names of several others to the list of those to be invited. A few minutes later the minister's callers departed gleefully, a warmer feeling than ever in their hearts for Doctor Amory Dale.
"You've got the right idea, boys," the latter called after them, standing at the top of the steps to see them off. "Give happiness to others and you will find true happiness for yourselves."
So far everything had gone swimmingly, and when the next morning the boys arose to find the sun shining brightly they thought that the fates had been almost too good to them.
"Something sure will happen before night," Jimmy muttered gloomily, as he made his way down to the dining room, from which issued a tempting aroma of bacon. "It's all too good to be true." But then, Jimmy always did feel grumpy before breakfast.
The boys each found his own family as enthusiastic as Doctor Dale had been about the great plan, and Bob's mother even hugged him impulsively as she passed behind his chair. Bob was almost ashamed of the happiness that welled in his heart. Of course a fellow of fifteen was too big to be hugged as a general thing, but, somehow, one's mother was different.
After breakfast he started down town to see about the jitney, met Joe on the way, and the two boys went on together, talking excitedly of their preparations.
"Dad says I can have the big car and the garage man will run it," Joe informed him gleefully. "Gee, I was never so surprised in my life. All he said was 'take it, my son, and Heaven grant you never want it for a worse purpose.' Great old sport, dad is."
"Gee, that's great," said Bob. "Now if we can only find some old bus that looks as if it will stand up for a mile or two, everything will be dandy."
After much kicking of tires and anxious examination, the boys did actually manage to find a Ford machine that promised, with more or less reservations, to do its duty, and, after engaging it with a driver for one-thirty that afternoon, they walked importantly from the shop, much to the amusement of the garage man.
"Fine set of kids," he muttered, shaking his head admiringly as he returned to the machine that he was repairing. "Always full of pep and ginger whenever you see 'em. They'll go a long way, those kids will."
In spite of various gloomy predictions, at one-thirty that afternoon there was still not a cloud in the sky and the breath of the sun smote downward almost as hotly as it would in midsummer.
Gayly the four boys started off in the two cars, eager to pick up the poor shut-ins of their acquaintance and give them the time of their lives.
Their first stop was at the lonely little cottage of Joel Banks, Civil War veteran. His housekeeper let them in, a quaint little woman with pink cheeks and white hair and a spotless white apron tied around her comfortable waist.
When the boys made known their errand to her she departed in a flutter of pleased surprise to prepare "the colonel" for his treat. In a few moments more the old gentleman appeared, leaning heavily upon the housekeeper, a stout cane grasped stiffly in his knotted fingers.
He gazed at the boys for a moment with dim eyes, then suddenly a gleam shot into them and he smiled.
"Reckoning on giving me a treat, are you, boys?" he asked. Something must have caught in his throat, for he cleared it hastily. "Well, that's mighty fine of you. Been a long time since anybody took that much interest in old Joel Banks."
Joe introduced his friends in hurried, boy fashion, and a moment later they were helping the old gentleman out of the house and into the automobile, at the same time pouring into his interested ears such tales of the marvels of radio telephony that it was a wonder they did not talk the veteran deaf.
In the confusion Bob managed to whisper instructions to Joe.
"We'll put the kids in your car," he said hurriedly. "There will be more room for them, and then they won't bother the old folks. And have the man drive slowly," he added. "This old bus isn't long on springs, and I don't want to jolt 'em up too much. Take it easy, Joe."
"All right," agreed the latter, and a moment later they were gliding cautiously over the smooth roads on their way to the home of little Dick Winters and his sister Rose.
The children were deliriously happy at the prospect of a little change and excitement, and there were tears in their mother's eyes as she helped the boys lift the children into the comfortable back seat of the Atwood car.
"God bless those boys!" whispered the woman, as the two cars sped away down the road.
Still further on the boys picked up several more crippled boys and girls, and then turned off a hot and dusty side road to call for Aunty Bixby.
Secretly the boys were a little afraid of this formidable old woman, and they wondered rather nervously whether or not she would break up the party.
When Jimmy, who was sitting beside Bob in the flivver, pointed out the white, ivy-grown house where the old woman lived, Bob nudged him nervously.
"Remember, you've got to take care of her," he said, noticing that Jimmy himself looked rather worried. "You were the one who spoke about her—"
"Gee, you don't need to rub it in, do you," growled the fat boy as he squeezed himself through the door and stepped gingerly onto the dusty road. "Better let me go in alone. She might get scared if she saw the whole bunch of us, and maybe she wouldn't come at all."
In his heart Bob thought that that might not be such a terrible thing, but he kept quiet. A fellow ought to be thankful for small blessings. Think how much worse it would be if he, and not Jimmy, were forced to break the news to Aunty Bixby.
The big car came to a stop beside the Ford, and all the boys watched with interest as Jimmy ascended the steps of the porch, rang the bell, and a moment later, disappeared into the house.
But as the time passed and he still failed to emerge they began to get a little uneasy about him. Finally Bob let himself out of the car and went to consult with Joe and Herb.
They had just about decided to make a raid upon the house and rescue poor Jimmy when the subject of discussion himself appeared, looking very red and flustered and out of sorts.
The boys were about to make a concerted rush upon him, but he waved them back violently.
"She's coming," he said in a hoarse tone somewhere between a whisper and a shout. "Get back there, you fellows."
They got back just in time to see Aunty Bixby herself emerge. Bob gave one look and his heart sank into his boots.
"Gee!" he muttered and there was anger in his eye. "Just wait till
I get Doughnuts Plummer alone somewhere."
Meanwhile Aunty Bixby was limping down upon them with all sails set, her stiff silk dress billowing out about her and her little hat set securely on her determined head, while Jimmy puffed along behind her.
With rare presence of mind Bob jumped out, opened the door of the car and offered to assist the old woman. His reward was a cold stare that made him feel like a baby caught with the jelly jar.
"No, thank you, young man," said Aunty Bixby. "I am quite capable of climbing into this—er—horrible thing, unassisted."
Bob shot a wild glare at Jimmy, who hovered in the background, but at the look of utter misery on the latter's face, even Bob's hard heart was softened.
As the old woman rustled into the car Joel Banks moved over courteously, but there was a gleam of amusement in his eye that puzzled Bob. How could he know that the old gentleman was having the time of his life?
Bob nudged Jimmy, bidding him do his duty and introduce the two old people, and, to do poor Jimmy justice, he really did do his best. But Aunty Bixby could not get the name straight, even with the assistance of her ear trumpet.
"Not that it matters in the least," said the old woman irritably, settling back with a grim expression on her face. "Now if you will take my advice and get started, young man, I would be very much obliged to you."
As the chauffeur felt for the starter and threw in the clutch Bob was desperately conscious of the old woman's accusing gaze on the back of his head.
"Say," he growled at Jimmy, huddled miserably in the seat beside him, "you sure did play a bonehead trick this time. She'll just spoil the fun for all of us."
"Ah, cut it out," retorted Jimmy, wriggling uncomfortably. "She really isn't half bad once you get to know her."
"Neither is poison," snorted Bob, as the car chugged wearily once or twice, then settled down to business. "If we ever get out of this alive, we'll be lucky."
However, maybe it was the sunshine, or maybe it was Joel Banks' conversation that wrought the change in her. Be that as it may, Aunty Bixby unbent surprisingly in the next few minutes. Bob and Jimmy kept an interested eye on the back seat where Joel Banks patiently shouted dry jokes into the old woman's trumpet to the accompaniment of the latter's amused cackle.
"You see!" Jimmy said proudly. "I told you she wasn't half bad if you only got to know her."
And then, just when they were within half a mile of their destination the miserable thing happened. There was a sharp explosion and an ominous whistling of escaping air.
The driver stopped the car, got out and regarded the flat tire with a frown of despair.
"Now what's the matter?" demanded Aunty Bixby, irritably adding, with an air almost of triumph: "I always did say I hated the dratted things."
How the chauffeur managed to get that tire changed the boys never afterward knew. Somehow or other he accomplished it and finally the car reached Doctor Dale's house without any further mishaps.
They found the doctor awaiting them, and in his courteous way he welcomed the guests of the afternoon, welcoming each one in turn and helping the radio boys to see that each one was made as comfortable as possible.
Little Dick Winters and Rose and even the older crippled boys were a trifle awed by the dignity of the occasion and the strangeness of their surroundings, but beneath the boys' merry joking and the doctor's friendly manner they soon got rid of this feeling and prepared to enjoy themselves to the limit.
Mr. Joel Banks was intensely interested in the radio apparatus, asking intelligent questions, to which the boys eagerly replied. So interested were they in the mechanical end that Dr. Dale finally informed them that if they expected to listen in at any concert that afternoon they had better get to it without further delay.
Aunty Bixby, listening anxiously through her ear trumpet, nodded emphatically at this suggestion.
"Yes," she said in her high, chronically irritable voice, "let's get along with it. I want to see what that horn-shaped contraption can do. Looks to me like nothin' so much's an old fashioned phonygraph."
"It's far more wonderful than any phonograph," the doctor told her good-naturedly. Then turning to Bob, directed: "Let her go, Bob. It's just time to catch that concert in Pittsburgh."
Bob obeyed, and then the fun began. For an hour that seemed only a minute in length all listened to a concert of exquisite music both vocal and instrumental, a concert given by some of the world's great artists and plucked from the air for their benefit.
Once Aunty Bixby dropped her trumpet and was heard to murmur something like "drat the thing!" But Jimmy gruntingly got down on his knees and retrieved the instrument from its hiding place under a chair. Then, finding she had missed part of a violin selection, the old woman exclaimed irritably.
"There, I missed that. Have them play it over again!"
The boys looked at each other, then looked suddenly away, trying their best to control the corners of their mouths.
However, when the concert was over and the last soprano solo, flowing so truly through the horn-shaped amplifier, died away into silence they saw that Aunty Bixby's bright old eyes were wet.
"Drat the thing!" she said, feeling blindly for a handkerchief. "Never heard tell o' such foolishness, making a body cry about nothing!"
Joel Banks sat with a knotted hand over his eyes, dreaming old dreams of days long past, days when he was young and athrill with the joy of living.
"How about a little dance music now?" asked Bob, glancing over at
Doctor Dale, who nodded his consent.
"Surely," he replied. "We have to have some dance music nowadays to please the young folks."
The little cripples received this suggestion with enthusiasm and fairly shouted with delight as the snappy tune of the latest fox trot floated into the room.
"That's the stuff!" shouted Dick Winters, and the boys grinned at him.
Later they had a minstrel show that sent them all into gales of laughter. Joel Banks and Aunty Bixby were as sorry as the young folks when it was over.
Then suddenly, without warning, the stirring strains of the Star Spangled Banner filled the room, played by a master band. Suddenly, as though by some common instinct, all eyes were turned upon Joel Banks. There was a light in the old veteran's eyes, a straightening of his whole sagging figure.
He tried to rise, faltered, felt two pairs of strong young arms lifting him, supporting him, as Bob and Joe sprang to his aid. He stood there, his hand at stiff salute, in his old eyes the fire of battle, until the last stirring note died away and the music was still. Then he sank into a chair, shaking his old head feebly.
"Those were the days!" he muttered under his breath. "Those were the good old days!"
And so the concert finally came to a close and the boys took their happily weary guests home through the mellow late afternoon, promising to do the whole thing over some day.
"They sure seemed to enjoy themselves," said Bob as the radio boys started toward home. "Aunty Bixby is a nice old lady, and as for Joel Banks—"
"Say, isn't he a dandy?" Joe demanded, and this time Herb and Jimmy chimed in:
"He sure is!"