Unconsciously Grace had walked along with Tom, much to his personal pleasure.
“Well, I’m glad,” he observed.
“Glad of what?” demanded Miss Morgan suspiciously.
“Oh, everything,” replied Tom bluntly, with a significance that caused Grace to blush. “As to my own transgression,” he went on, “as I told you, I can’t explain details, but I do not think your father would mind my telling you that I brought him an important message from my wireless.”
“Your wireless?” exclaimed Grace in a sprightly tone. “Oh, Tom, I heard about that. Is it really true that you know how to telegraph all over the world, and rescue sinking steamers, and catch fleeing criminals, and—and all that?”
Impetuous Miss Morgan had gone off in a rhapsody over the great enthusiastic theme of Tom’s mind, and he was truly delighted.
“Well, hardly,” he said. “You see, I haven’t reached that yet. It may come—I hope it does. That’s why I’m sticking to it.”
“Can I come and see you do it?” implored Grace excitedly. “Can I come into the tower and watch the messages come in, and see everything?”
“I shall feel honored if you do,” replied Tom proudly. “Ah, there’s another of those shells.”
Tom’s foot had kicked up a pearly odd-shaped shell in the sand. He stooped and secured it.