"How?" demanded both Laurie and Ted in a breath.
"I can't tell you that story to-day," Mr. Hazen expostulated. "It would take much too long. We must give over talking and put our minds on this telephone of our own which does not seem to be making any great progress. I begin to be afraid we haven't the proper outfit."
As he spoke, a shadow crossed the window and in another instant Mr. Clarence Fernald poked his head in at the door.
"What are you three conspirators up to?" inquired he. "You look as if you were making bombs or some other deadly thing."
"We are making a telephone, Dad, and it won't work," was Laurie's answer.
Mr. Fernald smiled with amusement.
"You seem to have plenty of wire," he said. "In fact, if I were permitted to offer a criticism, I should say you had more wire than anything else. How lengthy a circuit do you expect to cover?"
"Oh, we're not ambitious," Laurie replied. "If we can cross the room we shall be satisfied, although now that you mention it, perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing if it could run from my room at home over here." He eyed his father furtively. "Then when I happened to have to stay in bed I could talk to Ted and he could cheer me up."
"So he could!" echoed Mr. Fernald in noncommittal fashion.
"It would be rather nice, too, for Mr. Wharton," went on the diplomat with his sidelong glance still fixed on his father. "He must sometimes wish he could reach Ted without bothering to send a man way over here. And then there are the Turners! Of course a telephone to the shack would give them no end of pleasure. They must miss Ted and often want to speak with him."