"Oh, I'm comfortable, thank you," laughed his father. "Say, son, isn't this as good a time as any to try out the merits of that wireless 'phone of yours? Can you work it from this height?"
"I don't know why I can't—and three times higher," Bob said; "we'll try it right now. When I left home I told Sis to mind the set there in my room, and watch for my signal. We'll see now if I can get in touch with her."
So saying, Bob put on the wireless helmet, threw the switch, and kept repeating, "Hello, Sis! hello, Sis! hello, Sis!" for a few moments in the transmitter. Then he said, after a brief silence: "I get you, Betty. Won't answer you now, as I want dad to talk to you."
With that Bob smiled, removed the headpiece, and slipped it over his father's head, exchanging seats with him.
Mr. Giddings now heard a voice—the voice of his own daughter—asking quite distinctly:
"Do you hear me, daddie?"
"I certainly do, Betty," said he; "where are you?"
"Here at home—up in Robert's room. I never thought I'd be sometime talking with you when you were flying through the air. Mother just called upstairs and says she can't see the Sky-Bird any longer. Where are you now?"
"Up above the clouds somewhere just north of Yonkers," replied Mr.
Giddings laconically.
"Oh, goodness! I must run right down and tell mother. Please don't go too high or too far, daddie, will you?" came the clearly agitated tones of the daughter. "Is Robert all right?"