“How are you going to string the aerial on top of Aunt Ann’s house? You know it is nothing but a slice of brown stone.”
“Why,” said Jessie, composedly enough, “we’ll have a loop antenna, instead of long wires like these I have here. Of course it can be done, Aunt Ann.”
“And we will come for that matinee and the dinner,” cried Amy eagerly. “Think, Jess; what are you going to wear?”
The next day the hospital fund committee arranged the further details of the radio concert that the Stratford Electric Company had agreed to broadcast. The time limit was two hours and the professional numbers were to be interspersed with amateur efforts.
“At least, we’ll get a place on the same program with Madame Elva,” Amy said, but with a sigh. “But do you know, Jess, I am just stingy enough to wish that the committee had not given so much space to Miss Allister’s girls’ chorus. Those songs will take from seventeen to twenty minutes, the best they can do. They did at the school exercises, you know.”
“That is true,” said Jessie. “And Momsy says that she doesn’t see how they can give me time for more than one song, and that a brief one.”
“And my recitation takes only four minutes. Oh, dear! That Belle Ringold will crow over us unmercifully. She will think she is the whole show if they let her sing in that chorus.”
“Well,” admitted Jessie, “she really has a loud voice, you know, Amy.”
“You said something,” her chum said gruffly. “She can yell loud enough to broadcast from Stratfordtown without any radio-sending machine at all!”
“Why, Amy! Belle hasn’t a bad voice, I’m sure.”