“Then we must hurry,” declared Jess, as the minister’s daughter ran away.
“I’m getting interested,” announced Amy. “Is this radio business like a talking machine?”
“Only better,” said her chum. “Come on. I know several of the little books I want to get. I wrote down the names.”
They dived down the four steps into the basement bookshop. It was a fine place to browse, when one had an hour to spare. But the chums from Roselawn were not in browsing mood on this occasion.
They knew exactly what they wanted—at least, Jessie Norwood did—and somewhat to their surprise right near the front door of the shop was a “radio table.”
“Oh, yes, young ladies,” said the clerk who came to wait upon them only when he saw that they had made their selections, “we have quite a call for books on that topic. It is becoming a fad, and quite wonderful, too. I have thought some of buying a radio set myself.”
“We’re going to build one,” declared Amy with her usual prompt assurance. 23
“Are you? You two girls? Well, I don’t know why you shouldn’t. Lots of boys are doing so.”
“And anything a boy can do a girl ought to do a little better,” Amy added.
The clerk laughed as he wrapped up the several books Jessie had charged to her father’s account. “You let me know how you get on building it, will you?” he said. “Maybe I can get some ideas from your experience.”