“I’ll be generous and put something in it. What’ll you have?”
“Make it a gooseberry phosphate.”
“All right but you must furnish the sugar. It costs too much now.”
“You’re a cheap skate. When you die, your folks will go gooseburying.”
“Good-by, kindergarten,” interrupted the twice defeated wireless wit. “Your ma wants you to go to bed.”
“There’s a lot doing in the air tonight,” Walter announced presently, turning to his friend. “I’m going to see what I can pick up. Most of it is big wave length. I’m going to tune up to it and see what’s doing. You may listen in some of the time if you want to, Tony.”
“You go ahead,” said the latter. “You can read faster than I can. Tell me what’s doing whenever there’s anything interesting.”
Meanwhile Walter’s left hand was pressing the left receiver, while his right hand was busy with the three-slide tuning coil. Presently he appeared to be satisfied with the adjustment, for he transferred his right hand from the instrument to the right ear piece and pressed both pieces hard against his ears.
And there was good reason for this sudden eagerness of attitude on his part.
“Oh, Tony,” the radio eavesdropper exclaimed after a few moments of rapt attention. “It’s two liners talking together, and one of them’s the Herculanea, the ship mother and Guy are on.”