While they chattered and laughed the three girls were as busy as bees with the new radio arrangement. Amy said that Jessie kept them so hard at work that it did not seem at all as though they were "vacationing." It was good, healthy work for all.
"It does seem awfully quiet here without Hen," went on Amy, hammering on a board with a heavy hammer and making the big room where the radio set was, ring. "She keeps the place almost as tomb-like as a boiler shop—what?"
"You can make a little noise yourself," Jessie told her. "What's all the hammering for?"
"So things won't sound too tame. How are we getting on with the new circuit?"
"Why, Amy Drew! you just helped me place this vario-coupler. Didn't you know what you were doing?"
"Not a bit," confessed Amy. "You are away out of my depth, Jess. And don't try to tell me what it all means, that's a dear. I never can remember scientific terms."
"Put up the hammer," said Nell, laughing. "You are a confirmed knocker, anyway, Amy. But I admit I do not understand this tangle of wires."
They did not seek to disconnect the old regenerative set that day, for there was much of interest expected out of the ether before the day was over. One particular thing Jessie looked for, but she had said nothing about it to anybody save her very dearest chum, Amy, and the clergyman's daughter, Nell.
Two days before she had done some telephoning over the long-distance wire. Of course there was a cable to the mainland from Station Island, and Jessie had called up and interviewed Mark Stratford at Stratfordtown.