It was, after all, too late that evening to do any repairing of Jessie’s radio antenna. The girls had changed back into their ordinary wear for dinner. That meal at the Norwood house was set back an hour or more because of the confusion attending the wreck of the airplane and the departure of the Stratfords in the private ambulance.
The exciting incidents of the evening were not concluded by the departure of the injured Mark and the despatch of dinner. As the Norwoods came out upon the lighted porch they heard voices on the lawn near the wrecked aeroplane.
“Who is Chapman shooing off the place?” asked Mrs. Norwood of her husband.
“Neighborhood children, I suppose,” said Jessie’s father carelessly. “Come to see the wreck. Better not let them stay to-night—Mr. Stratford said he would send a truck and men to pick up the pieces in the morning—for there are small parts of the plane that might be carried away by inquisitive boys.”
“Oh, Daddy, that isn’t a boy!” Jessie suddenly declared, and darted down the steps.
The chauffeur had evidently been peremptory in his remarks to the uninvited callers. A shrill voice replied to Chapman’s warning:
“You needn’t be so grouchy about it. We wouldn’t carry off anything. It ain’t no good, anyway—not even for kindling. We just wanted to look at it.”
“Well, now you’ve seen it, beat it,” growled out Chapman.
“Ain’t we going?” demanded the same sharp voice. “We seen the old thing fall from clear over to Dogtown, and we jest wanted to see if it did any damage to Miss Jessie’s wires and things. And it did.”
“Oh, Henrietta!” cried Jessie, running across the lawn. “Don’t go. We haven’t seen you for a week.”