“Oh, let me try it! What will it do?” exclaimed Corene from the admiring group now surrounding the buzzer.
“It will grind anything. See, it is run by a motor,” explained Peg.
“Wonder would it cut Corene’s hair, nice and even,” teased Cleo. “I’ve heard that very self same tune in barber shops.”
“But where do you get your electricity from?” pressed Julia, the intelligent.
“There are a few poles in the hills and dad had one tapped for his own use,” replied Peg. “You know the big hotel is wired.”
“If we had known it we might have had a pole tapped for Comalong use,” put in Grace, facetiously. “I’ve had an awful time doing my hair at the beach-tree dressing table. Just think what a spot-light would have done for us.”
Corene was grinding the point of her belt buckle on the revolving emery wheel; Cleo was examining some outlines and drawings tacked to a drawing board, while the attention of Louise was riveted upon a line of tools set in graduated order upon a convenient shelf, as neatly placed as the kitchen knives, spoons and ladles in her mother’s orderly pantry at home.
“Peg,” said Corene, trying the buckle’s point in her blouse, “couldn’t we open a little factory here and sharpen knives and forks for the campers? We might fix umbrellas too. I’ve seen the grind men do it at this sort of buzzer.”
Peg laughed happily at the girl’s humor. “You don’t know how good it seems to hear real, human words in this room again,” she said after an emphatic pause. “Auntie has been so afraid of everything that I suppose I’ve inhaled the air of fear, unconsciously.”
“I think Corey’s idea perfectly spiffing,” added Cleo. She was looking for something to sharpen on the wheel.