He found himself within a well-furnished bungalow, somewhat like the one at Mount Major, only not so large. In the main room was a man and his wife and a boy about Ted’s age. And this boy was leaning over the radio instrument set in one corner on a table, making some adjustments to it.
“Tune it down a little, so it isn’t so loud,” said the boy’s mother, as Ted entered.
As the boy turned the knob of the variable condenser, softening the musical sounds from the black mouth of the loud-speaker horn, they all turned and looked at Ted.
He met their gaze smiling.
“Hello!” exclaimed the man, in some surprise, though his voice was friendly.
“How’d you get in?” asked the boy at the radio instrument. Then he turned the switch and cut off the battery power from one of the lights so that the music no longer sounded.
“I came—I came in the door,” said Ted. “I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me ’cause the music was going.” And then, like the “radio bug” he was fast becoming, Ted eagerly asked:
“Do you get any other stations besides Q Q Z?”
“Sure I do!” answered the other boy, and in a moment, though hardly a dozen words had been spoken, the two lads were firm friends—just because of their interest in radio.
“We have a set at home,” went on Ted, “but we haven’t any loud speaker yet. I want dad to get one.”