“M-mm! I love ’em,” confessed Jessie.
“Better than George Washington sundaes,” agreed her chum. “Say we go?”
“I’ll run tell Momsy. She can play with my radio while we are gone,” and Jessie went downstairs to find her mother.
“I tell you what,” said Amy as, with their paddles, the girls wended their way down to the little boathouse and landing. “Won’t it be great if they ever get pocket radios?”
“Pocket radios!” exclaimed Jessie.
“I mean what the man said in the magazine article we read in the first place. Don’t you remember? About carrying some kind of a condensed receiving set in one’s pocket—a receiving and a broadcasting set, too.”
“Oh! But that is a dream.”
“I don’t know,” rejoined Amy, who had become a thorough radio convert by this time. “It is not so far in advance, perhaps. I see one man has invented an umbrella aerial-receiving thing—what-you-may-call-it.”
“An umbrella!” gasped Jessie.
“Honest. He opens it and points the ferrule in the direction of the broadcasting station he is 59 tuned to. Then he connects the little radio set, clamps on his head harness, and listens in.”