String music, reaching their ears so wonderfully, hushed their speech. But Darry got close to his sister, stretching his ear, too, to distinguish the sounds. The introduction to the famous composition was played brilliantly, then the voices of the singers traveled to the little group in Jessie Norwood’s room from the broadcasting station thirty miles away.
“Isn’t it wonderful! Wonderful!” murmured Amy.
“Sh!” admonished her chum.
When the number was ended, Burd Alling removed his head-harness and gravely shook hands with Jessie.
“Some calico, you are,” he declared. “Don’t ever go to college, Jess. It will spoil your initiative.”
“You needn’t call me by your slang terms. ‘Calico,’ indeed!” exclaimed Jessie. “Calico hasn’t been worn since long before the war.”
“You might at least call us ‘ginghams,’” sniffed Amy.
“Wait!” commanded Jessie. “Here comes something else. You take my ear-tabs, Darry.”
“Wait a moment,” cried Amy, who still had her phones to her ears. Then she groaned horribly. “It’s a lecture! Oh! Merciful Moses’ aunt! Here! You listen in, Darry!”