“Say, Eddie,” he said, “wouldn’t this be a dandy room for a club room?”
“I should say yes!” he cried. “Oh, man, what a room! No one to be bothered if we made a noise. Gee! Wish we could have a Wireless Club.”
“Why couldn’t we?” asked Bill. “I could be the president.”
“Presidents are elected,” said Eddie with scorn. “They don’t just elect themselves.”
“That’s all right too,” said Bill, laughing. “But it is my shed and my wireless, and if I wasn’t president some other fellow would have the say-so, and play the dickens with everything perhaps.”
“Well,” said Eddie, “all right; you be president and I will be vice-president.”
“That’s fair enough,” agreed Bill, rubbing away on the window. “But I say we keep it small.”
“Oh, yes; let’s only have five or six fellows in it. That’s the sort of a club to have especially when it is something as unusual as this. Whom will we ask? Shall we have Fat and Skinny? They have a sort of wireless of their own.”
“That’s all right,” said Bill. “That’s dandy! We could use them for practice. I say we have Fat and Skinny, and you and me; that’s four, and Ned Harper is five, and who is nice enough for number six?”
“How about the new fellow down at the corner, in the Cleveland house?” asked Eddie.