This sounded pretty bad, Jessie thought; but as the voices of Mrs. Ringold and her daughter rose higher and they became more angry, the fact of their “fighting” could scarcely be denied.
“Goodness me!” gasped Amy. “She’ll slap Belle in a minute!”
“Can’t they get any action at all from the set?” Jessie asked Sally Moon hastily.
“Nothing but a scratchy sound—like a bad record on a talking machine,” replied Sally.
“Atmospherics,” suggested Amy. “It’s a bad day, anyway. There’s thunder in the distance.”
“They have been trying for an hour,” said Sally.
“It’s the rigging of the aerial,” said Jessie thoughtfully. “Look, Amy. The wires are a little twisted, but what is making the real trouble is the way those porcelain insulators are put on.”
She started for the porch. Amy cried after her: “Better not! You’ll get your nose snapped off or something.”
“But it will be awful if they can’t give the radio concert after advertising it,” Jessie murmured, hesitating.
Amy was still opposed to her chum’s offering any help. But Sally had turned and run ahead. She now called to the angry Mrs. Ringold: