“Oh, I don’t know that she would do that; but she is a good deal like Belle—a trouble maker.”
“We certainly have found that out about her daughter,” laughed Amy. “And when is the crowd to go over to Stratfordtown to rehearse?”
“In the morning. Miss Allister has had a lot of trouble with the chorus. That’s another stir-up,” sighed Jessie.
“They need not worry about me,” said Amy with conviction. “I am letter perfect in my recitation. I’m not scared a bit. When I stand up before the audience—Oh, honey! There will not be any audience, will there?” and she ended with a laugh.
“Not much of one, I guess,” said Jessie. “It must be like playing in the movies. There is no inspiration of applause. But I expect for the rehearsal to-morrow half the people who own motor-cars in New Melford and Roselawn will sail over to Stratfordtown. It will look like circus day over there.”
“Jess, you hit it right,” her chum said, when the Norwoods’ big car, driven by Chapman, was parked in one of the lanes beside the Electric Company’s stockade at ten o’clock the next forenoon. “It does seem as though there must be a street fair in the town, or something of the kind.”
The radio girls of Roselawn had been up to the sending station on a previous occasion, so they could take “Momsy” right along with them. They knew the location of the elevators. Neither Mark nor his father was present, but Mr. Blair, the radio superintendent, remembered the chums and addressed them as they stepped out of the elevator with Mrs. Norwood.
“Just a moment and I will be with you, young ladies,” he said, in his rather brusk way.
He was talking with a girl whose back was toward the newcomers; but when the latter had moved away from the elevator Amy suddenly squeezed her chum’s arm to draw her attention.
“Isn’t that Bertha, little Hen’s cousin?” asked Amy in a whisper.