“I understand,” said the operator gravely, seeing the little girl’s lip trembling. “You would like to have me reach your friend, Miss Jessie——”
“Her name’s Norwood, too,” put in Henrietta, to make sure.
“Oh, indeed? She is the lawyer, Mr. Norwood’s daughter. I have met her.”
“Yes, sir. She came here once.”
“And you wish to send her a message if it is possible?”
“Yes, sir. I want you should ask her to get to Boston as quick as she can and come back again. We would all like to have her come,” said the little girl, gravely.
“I am going to be on duty myself this evening and I will try to get your message through,” said the operator kindly. “The Marigold, is it?” and he drew the code book toward him in which the signal for every vessel sailing from American ports, even pleasure craft, that carries wireless, is listed.
He turned around to his instrument right then and began to rap out the call for the yacht. He kept it up, off and on, between his other work, all the evening. But no answer was returned.
The operator began to be somewhat puzzled by this fact. Knowing how much interested in radio the girls were who had visited him, he could not understand why they would not be listening in at some time or other on the yacht.
He kept throwing into the ether the signal meant for the Marigold’s call until almost midnight, when he expected to be relieved by his partner. Towards ten o’clock there was some bothersome signals in the ether that annoyed him whenever he took a message or relayed one in the course of the evening’s business.