“You haven’t got to go to jail, have you, Monty?” questioned Henrietta, with anxiety.
“Not yet,” said young Shannon.
“Was it Mr. Stratford?” asked Amy, shutting off the power and bringing the launch easily into the dock.
“That’s who it was, Miss Amy,” responded the red-haired boy.
“What—what did he want?” Jessie asked with hesitation.
“Wanted to look at my aerial. Said it was all to the merry,” said the boy, still grinning. “Guess those girls over there at Carter’s will wish they’d let me finish that job.”
“Do you mean to tell us that that is all Mark Stratford wanted you for?” Amy demanded.
“Well—er—that’s about all. I’m buying my radio set from the Stratford Electric Company and Mr. Mark came over here to tell me I could have it right away and pay him for it when I get the money. He is all right, that feller!” and Monty’s face blazed with admiration.
“Why, I wonder if Mark goes around giving credit to all the boys who want to own radios?” marveled Amy.
But Jessie saw farther into the matter than her chum. She asked with interest: