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RG 31-157 


Rod Phillips - 



1771 N STREET, N.W.. WASHINGTON, D. C. 20036 


' .ir- 


‘The Radio Girls on Station Island” 

Page 198 



The Wireless from the Steam Yacht 










I. “O-Be-Joyful” Henrietta . . i 

II. A Puzzling Question ... 9 

III. A Flare-Up ...... 17 

IV. Uncertainties.26 

V. Into Trouble and Out . . . 36 

VI. Changed Plans.47 

VII. Forecasts.56 

VIII. Aboard the “Marigold” . . 63 

IX. Gossip Out of the Ether . . 70 

X. Island Adventures . . 77 

XI. Trouble. 84 

XII. A Double Race.91 

XIII. More Than One Adventure . 98 

XIV. Something New in Radio . .107 

XV. Henrietta in Disgrace . . .114 



XVI. “Radio Control” .... 122 

XVII. The Tempest. 132 

XVIII. From One Thing to Another . 139 

XIX. Bound Out.147 

XX. Something Serious . . . .156 

XXI. Work for All. 166 

XXII. A Radio Call That Failed . . 172 

XXIII. Only Hope.180 

XXIV. The Mysterious Message . .189 

XXV. Saved by Radio. 196 




J ESSIE NORWOOD, gaily excited, came 
bounding into her sitting room waving a slit 
envelope over her sunny head, her face alight. 
She wore a pretty silk slip-on, a sports skirt, and 
silk hose and oxfords that her chum, Amy Drew, 
pronounced “the very swellest of the swell.” 

Beside Amy in the sitting room was Nell Stan¬ 
ley, busy with sewing in her lap. The two visi¬ 
tors looked up in some surprise at Jessie’s boister¬ 
ous entrance, for usually she was the demurest of 

“What’s happened to the family now, Jess?” 
asked Amy, tossing back her hair. “Who has 
written you a billet-doux?” 

“Nobody has written to me,” confessed Jessie. 
“But just think, girls I Here is another five dol¬ 
lars by mail for the hospital fund.” 

Jessie had been acting as her mother’s secre- 



tary of late, and Mrs. Norwood was at the head 
of the committee that had in charge the raising 
of the foundation fund for the New 7 Melford 
Women’s and Children’s Hospital. 

“That radio concert panned out wonderfully,” 
Amy said. “If Fd done it all myself it could 
have been no better,” and she grinned elfishly. 

“We did a lot to help,” said Nell seriously. 
“And I think it was just wonderful, our singing 
into the broadcasting horns.” 

“This five dollars,” said Jessie, soberly, “was 
contributed by girls who earned the money them* 
selves for the hospital. That is why I am saving 
the envelope and letter. I am going to write 
them and congratulate them for mother, when I 
get time.” 

“Never was such a success as that radio con¬ 
cert,” Amy said proudly. “I have received no 
public resolution of thanks for suggesting it-” 

“I am not sure that you suggested it any more 
than the rest of us,” laughed Jessie. 

“I like that!” 

“I feel that I had a share in it. The Reverend 
says it was the most successful money-raising af¬ 
fair he ever had anything to do with,” laughed 
Neil. “And he, as a minister, has had a broad 
experience.” The motherless Nell Stanley, young 
as she w r as, was the very efficient head of the 
household in the parsonage. She always spoke 



affectionately of her father as “the Reverend*” 

“Yes. It is a week now, and the money con¬ 
tinues to come in,” Jessie agreed. “But now that 
the excitement Is over - ” 

“We should look for more excitement,” said 
Amy promptly. “Excitement is the breath of 
Life. Peace is stagnation. The world moves, 
and all that. If we get into a rut we are soon 
ready for the Old Lady’s Home over beyond 

“I’m sure,” returned Jessie, a little hotly, “we 
are always doing something, Amy. We do not 

“Sure I” scoffed her chum, in continued vigor of 
speech, “We go swizzing along like a snail 1 
‘Fast’ is the name for us—tied fast to a post. 
Molasses running up hill in January is about our 
natural pace here in Roselawn.” 

Nell burst into gay laughter. “Go on! Keep 
it up! Your metaphors are wonderfully apt, Miss 
Drew. Do tell us what we are to do to get into 
high and show a little speed?” 

“Well, now, for instance,” said Amy promptly, 
her face glowing suddenly with excitement, “I 
have been waiting for somebody to suggest what 
we are going to do the rest of the summer. But 
thus far nobody has said a thing about it.” 

“Well, Reverend has his vacation next month. 
You know that,” said Nell slowly and quite seri- 

ously. “It is a problem how we can all go away. 
And I am not sure that it is right that we should 
all tag after him. He ought to have a rest from 
Fred and Bob and Sally and me.” 

Jessie smiled at the minister’s daughter appre¬ 
ciatively. “I wonder if you ought not to have a 
rest away from the family, Nell?” 

“Hear! Hear!” cried Amy Drew. 

“Don’t be foolish,” laughed Nell Stanley. “I 
should worry my head off if I did not have Sally 
with me, anyway. I think we’d better go up to 
the farm where we went last year.” 

“ ‘Farm’ doesn’t spell anything for me,” said 
Amy, tossing her head. “Cows and crickets, horses 
and grasshoppers, haystacks and hicks!” 

“But Ave could have our radio along,” Jessie 
said quietly. “I could disconnect this one ”?—t 
pointing to her receiving set by the window— 
“and we might carry it along. It is easy enough to 
string the antenna.” 

“O-oh!” groaned her chum. “She calls it easy! 
And I pretty nearly strained my back in two dis¬ 
tinct places helping fix those wires after Mark 
Stratford’s old aeroplane tore them down.” 

“Well, you want some excitement, you say,” 
said Jessie composedly. She went to the radio 
instrument, sat down before it, adjusted a set of 
the earphones, and opened the switch. “I won¬ 
der what is going on at this time,” she murmured. 



; 5 

Amy suddenly cocked her head to listen, al¬ 
though it could not be that she heard what came 
through the ether. 

“Listen!” she cried. 

“What under the sun is that?” demanded the 
clergyman’s daughter, in amazement. 

Jessie murmured at the radio receiver: 

“Don’t make so much noise, girls. I can’t hear 
myself think, let alone what might come over the 

„ ' shrieked Amy, jumping up. 

“ 1 hat is no radio message, believe me! It comes 
from no broadcasting station. Listen, girls!” 

She raised the screen at a window and leaned 
out. Jessie, removing the tabs from her ears, 
likewise gained some understanding of what was 
gomg on outside. A shrill voice was shrieking: 

“Miss Jessie! Miss Jessie! I got the most 
wonderful thing to tell you. Oh, Miss Jessie!” 
hor pity’s sake!” murmured Jessie. 

Isn t that little Hen from Dogtown?” asked 
Nell Stanley. 

. “ That is exactly who it is,” agreed Amy, start¬ 
ing for the door. “Little Hen is one live wire. 
‘O-Be-Joyful’ Henrietta is never lukewarm. There 
is always something doing with that child.” 

“Do you suppose she can be in trouble?” asked 
Jessie, worriedly. 

“If she is, I guarantee it will be something 



funny,” replied Amy, whisking out of the room. 

“Miss Jessie I Miss Jessie! I want to tell 
you!” repeated the shrill voice from the front of 
the Norwood house. 

“Come on, Jessie,” said Nell, dropping her 
work and starting, too. “The child evidently 
wants you.” 

The others followed Amy Drew down to the 
porch. The Norwood house where Jessie, an 
only child, lived with her mother and her father, 
a lawyer who had his office in New York, was a 
large dwelling even for Roselawn, which was a 
district of fine houses forming a part of the town 
of New Melford. The house was set in the 
middle of large grounds. Roses were everywhere 
—beds and beds of them. At one side was the 
boathouse and landing at the head of Lake 
Mononset. At the foot of the front lawn was 
Bonwit Boulevard, across which stood the house 
where Amy Drew lived with her father, Wilbur 
Drew, also a New York lawyer, and her mother 
and her brother Darrington. 

But it was that which stood directly before the 
gateway of the Norwood place which attracted 
the gaze of the three girls. A little old basket 
phaeton, drawn by a fat and sleepy looking brown- 
and-white pony, and driven by a grinning boy in 
overalls and with bare feet, made an object quite 
odd enough to stare at. The little girl sitting so 


very straight in the phaeton, and holding a green 
parasol over her head, was bound to attract the 
amused attention of any on-looker. 

Oh, look at little Hen!” gasped Amy, who 
was ahead. 

Montmorency Shannon,” agreed Jessie. 

Don t laugh, girls! You’ll hurt their feelings.” 

“Then I’ll have to shut my eyes,” declared 
Amy. That parasol! And those freckles! They 
look green under it. Dear me, Nell, did you ever 
see such funny children in your life as those Dog- 
town kids?” 

Jessie ran down the steps and the path to the 
street. When the freckled child saw her coming 
she stood up and waved the parasol at the Rose- 
lawn girl. 

Henrietta Haney was a child in whom the two 
Roselawn girls had become much interested while 
she had lived in the Dogtown district of New 
Melford with Mrs. Foley and her family. Mont- 
morency Shannon was a red-haired urchin from 
the same poor quarters, and he and Henrietta 
were the best of friends. 

“Oh, Miss Jessie! Miss Jessie! What d’you 
think? I’m rich!” 

“She certainly is rich,” choked Amy, following 
her chum with Nell Stanley. “She’s a scream.” 

“What do you mean—that you are rich, Henri¬ 
etta?” Jessie asked, smiling at her little protege. 



“I tell you, I am rich. Or, I am goin’ to be. 
I own an island and everything. And there’s 
bungleloos on it, and fishing, and a golf course, 
and everything. I am rich.” 

What can the child mean?” asked Jessie Nor¬ 
wood, looking back at her friends. “She sounds 
as though she believed it was actually so.” 



L ITTLE Henrietta Haney, with her green 
parasol and her freckles, came stumbling 
out of the low phaeton, so eager to tell 
Jessie the news that excited her that she could 
scarcely make herself understood at all. She fairly 

“I’m rich! I got an island and everything!” 
she crowed, over and over again. Then she saw 
Amy Drew’s delighted countenance and she 
added: “Don’t you laugh, Miss Amy, or I won’t 
let you go to my island at all. And there’s radio 

“For pity’s sake, Henrietta!” cried Jessie. 
“Where is this island?” 

“Where would it be? Out in the water, of 
course. There’s water all around it,” declared 
the freckle-faced child in vigorous language. 
“Don’t you s’pose I know where an island ought 
to be?” 

At that Amy Drew burst into laughter. In 
fact, Jessie Norwood’s chum found it very diffi- 




cult on most occasions to be sober when there 
was any possibility of seeing an occasion for 
laughter. She found amusement in almost every¬ 
thing that happened. 

But that made her no less helpful to Jessie 
when the latter had gained her first interest in 
radio telephony. Whatever these two Roselawn 
girls did, they did together. If Jessie planned to 
establish a radio set, Amy Drew was bound to 
assist in the actual stringing of the antenna and 
in the other work connected therewith. They al¬ 
ways worked hand in hand. 

In the first volume of this series, entitled “The 
Radio Girls of Roselawn,” the chums and their 
friends fell in with a wealth of adventures, and 
one of the most interesting of those adventures 
was connected with little Henrietta Haney, whom 
Amy had just now called “O-Be-Joyful” Henri¬ 

The more fortunate girls had been able to as¬ 
sist Henrietta, and finally had found her cousin, 
Bertha Blair, with whom little Henrietta now 
lived. By the aid of radio telephony, too, Jessie 
and Amy and their friends were able to help in 
several charitable causes, including that of the 
building of the new hospital. 

In the second volume, “The Radio Girls on the 
Program,” the friends had the chance to speak 
and sing at the Stratfordtown broadcasting sta- 



tiori. It was an opportunity toward which they 
had long looked forward, and that exciting day 
they were not likely soon to forget. 

A week had passed, and during that time Jessie 
knew that little Henrietta had been taken to Strat- 
fordtown by her Cousin Bertha, where they were 
to live with Bertha’s uncle, who was the superin¬ 
tendent of the Stratford Electric Company’s send¬ 
ing station. The appearance of the wildly excited 
little girl here in Roselawn on this occasion was, 
therefore, a surprise. 

Jessie Norwood seized hold of Henrietta by 
the shoulders and halted her wild career of danc¬ 
ing. She looked at Montmorency Shannon ac¬ 
cusingly and asked: 

“Do you know what she is talking about?” 

“Sure, I do.” 

“Well, what does she mean?” 

“She’s been talking like that ever since I picked 
her up. This is Cabbage-head Tony’s pony. You 
know, he sells vegetables down on the edge of 
town. Spotted Snake-” 

“Don’t call Henrietta that!” cried Jessie, re¬ 

“Well, she gave the name to herself when she 
played being a witch,” declared the Shannon boy 
defensively. “Anyway, Hen came down to Dog- 
town last evening and hired me to drive her over 
here this morning.” 



“And when I get some of my money that’s 
coming to me with that island,” broke in Henri¬ 
etta, “I’ll buy Montmorency an automobile to 
drive me around in. This old pony is too slow— 
a lot too slow!” 

“Listen to that!” crowed Amy, in delight. 

“But do tell us about the island, child,” urged 
Nell Stanley, likewise interested. 

“A man came to Cousin Bertha’s house, where 
we live with her uncle. His name is Blair, too; 
it isn’t Haney. Well, this man said: ‘Are you 
Padriac Haney’s little girl?’ And I told him yes, 
that I wasn’t grown up yet like Bertha. And so 
he asked a lot of questions of Mr. Blair. They 
was questions about my father and where he was 
married to my mother, and where I was born, and 
all that.” 

“But where does the island come in?” de¬ 
manded Amy. 

“Now, don’t you fuss me all up, Miss Amy,” 
admonished the child. “Where was I at!” 

“You was at the Norwood place. I brought 
you,” said young Shannon. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” demanded the 
little girl scornfully. “Well, it’s about Padriac 
Haney’s great uncle,” she hastened to say. 
“Padriac was my father’s name and his great 
uncle—I suppose that means that he was awful 
big—p’r’aps like that fat man in the circus we 



saw.' But his name was Padriac too, and he left 
all his money and islands and golf courses to my 
father. So it is coming to me.” 

“Goodness!” exclaimed Nell Stanley. “Did 
you ever hear such a jumbled-up affair?” 

(( But Montmorency Shannon nodded solemnly. 

Guess it’s so. Mrs. Foley was telling my mother 
something about it. And Spot—I mean, Hen, 
must have fallen heiress to money, for she give 
me a whole half dollar to drive her over here,” 
and his grin appeared again. 

“What. I want to know is the name of the 
island, child? demanded Amy, recovering from 
her laughter. 

“Well, it’s got a name all right,” said Henri¬ 
etta. “It is Station Island. And there’s a hotel 
on it. But that hotel don’t belong to me. And 
the radio station don’t belong to me.” 

“O-ohI A radio station!” repeated Jessie. 
“That sounds awfully interesting. I wonder 
where it is!” 

“But the golf course belongs to me, and some 
bungleloos,” added the child, mispronouncing the 
word with her usual emphasis. “And we are 
going out to this island to spend the summer— 
Bertha and me. Mrs. Blair says we can. And 
she will go, too. The man that knows about it 
has told the Blairs how to get there and—and— 
invite you, Miss Jessie, and you, Miss Amy, to 



come out on Station Island and visit us. Oh, we’ll 
have fun 1” 

“That sounds better than any old farm,” cried 
Amy, gaily. “I accept, Hen, on the spot. You 
can count on me.” 

“If it is all right so that we can go, I will prom¬ 
ise to visit you, dear,” Jessie agreed. “But, you 
know, we really will have to learn more about 

“Cousin Bertha will tell you,” said the freckle¬ 
faced child, eagerly. “I run away to come down 
here to the Foleys, so as to tell you first. You 
are the very first folks I have ever invited to come 
to live on my island.” 

“Ain’t you going to let me come, Spot—I mean, 
Hen?” asked Monty Shannon, who sat sidewise 
on the seat and was paying very little attention 
to the pony. 

As a matter of fact, the pony belonging to the 
vegetable vender was so old and sedate that one 
would scarcely think it necessary to watch him. 
But at this very moment a red car, traveling at 
a pace much over the legal speed on a public 
highway, came dashing around the turn just be¬ 
low the Norwood house. It took the turn on 
two wheels, and as it swerved dangerously toward 
the curb where the pony stood, its rear wheels 



“Look out!” shrieked Amy. “That car is out 
of control! Look, Jess!” 

Her chum, by looking at it, nor the observation 
of any other bystander, could scarcely avert the 
disaster that Amy Drew feared. But she was so 
excited that she scarcely knew what she shouted. 
And her mad gestures and actions utterly amazed 

“Have you got Saint Vitus’s dance, Amy 
Drew?” Jessie demanded. 

The red, low-hung car wabbled several times 
back and forth across the oiled driveway. They 
saw a hatless young fellow in front behind the 
wheel. In the narrow tonneau were two girls, 
and if they were not exactly frightened they did 
not look happy. 

Nell Stanley cried: “It’s Bill Brewster’s racing 
car; and he’s got Belle and Sally with him.” 

“Belle and Sally!” shrieked Amy. 

Belle Ringold and her follower, Sally Moon, 
were not much older than Amy and Jessie, but 
they were overbearing and insolent and had made 
themselves obnoxious to many of their school¬ 
mates. Wishing to appear grown up, and wish¬ 
ing, above all things, to attract Amy’s brother 
Darry and Darry’s chum, Burd Ailing, and feel¬ 
ing that in some way the two Roselawn chums 
interfered in this design, they were especially un¬ 
pleasant in their behavior toward them. 



Sometimes Belle and Sally had been able to 
make the Roselawn girls feel unhappy by their 
haughty speech and what Amy called their “snippy 
ways.” Just now, however, circumstances forbade 
the two unpleasant girls annoying anybody. 

The others had identified the reckless driver 
and his passengers. At least, all had recognized 
the party save Montmorency Shannon. He just 
managed to jump out of the phaeton in time. The 
pony was still asleep when the rear of the skidding 
red car crashed against the phaeton and crushed 
it into a wreck across the curbstone. 



T HE red car stopped before it completely 
overturned. Then, when the exhaust was 
shut off, the screams of the two girls in 
the back seat could be heard. But nobody shouted 
any louder than Montmorency Shannon. 

The red-haired boy had leaped from the phae¬ 
ton and had seized the pony by the bit. Otherwise 
the surprised animal might have set off for home, 
Amy said, “on a perfectly apoplectic run.” 

The little animal stood shaking and pawing, 
nothing but the shafts and whiffle-tree remaining 
attached to it by the harness. The rear wheels of 
the racing car were entangled in the phaeton and 
it was slewed across the road. 

“Now see what you’ve done! Now see what 
you’ve done! ’ one of the girls in the car was say¬ 
ing, over and over. 

“Well, I couldn’t help it, Belle,” whined the 
reckless young Brewster. “You and Sally Moon 
aren’t hurt. And you asked to ride with me, any¬ 

“Oh, I don’t mean you, Bill!” exclaimed the 



girl behind him. “But that horrid boy with his 
pony carriage! What business had he to get in the 

“Hey! ’Tain’t my carriage, you Ringold girl,” 
declared Monty Shannon. “It’s Cabbage-head 
Tony’s. He’ll sue your father for this, Bill Brews¬ 
ter. And you come near killing me and the pony.” 

“I don’t see how you came to be standing just 
there,” complained the driver of the red car. “You 
might have been on the other side of the drive.” 

“He ought to have been!” declared Belle Rin¬ 
gold promptly. “He was headed the wrong way. 
I’ll testify for you, Bill. Of course he was headed 

“Why, you’re another 1” cried Monty. “If I’d 
been headed the wrong way you’d have smashed 
the pony instead of the carriage.” 

“Never mind what they say, Monty,” Jessie 
Norwood put in quietly. “There are three of us 
here who saw the collision, and we can testify to 
the truth.” 

“And me. I seen it,” added Henrietta eagerly. 
“Don’t forget that Spotted Snake, the Witch, seen 
it all. If you big girls tell stories about Monty 
and that pony, you’ll wish you hadn’t—now you 
see!” and she began making funny gestures with 
her hands and writhing her features into perfectly 
frightful contortions. 

“Henrietta!” commanded Jessie Norwood, yet 



having hard work, like Nell and Amy, to keep 
from laughing at the freckle-faced child, “Hen¬ 
rietta, stop that! Don’t you know that is not a 
polite way—nor a nice way—to act?” 

“Why, Miss Jessie, they won’t know that,” 
complained little Henrietta. “They are never nice 
or polite.” 

At this statement Monty Shannon burst out 
laughing, too. The red-haired boy could not be 
long of serious mind. 

“Never you mind, Brewster,” he said to the un¬ 
fortunate driver of the red car, who was notorious 
for getting into trouble. “Never mind; we ain’t 
killed. And your father can pay Cabbage-head 
Tony all right. It won’t break him,” 

“You impudent thing!” exclaimed Belle Rin- 
gold, who was a very proud and unpleasant girl. 
“You are always making trouble for people, 
Montmorency Shannon. It was you who would 
not finish stringing our radio antenna at the Carter 
place and so helped spoil our picnic.” 

“He didn’t! He didn’t!” ejaculated Henrietta, 
dancing up and down in her excitement. “It was 
me—Spotted Snake! I brought down the curse of 
bad weather on your old picnic—the witch’s curse. 
I’m the one that brought thunder and lightning 
and rain to spoil your fun. And I’ll do it again.” 

She was so excited that Jessie could not silence 
her, Sally Moon burst into a scornful laugh, but 



her chum, Belle, said, fanning herself as she sat in 
the stalled car: 

“Don’t give them any attention. These Rose- 
lawn girls are just as low as the Dogtown kids. 
Thank goodness, Sally, we will get away from 
them all for the rest of the summer.” 

“Your satisfaction will only be equaled by 
ours,” laughed Amy Drew. 

“I don’t know whether you will get rid of me or 
not, Belle,” said Nell Stanley composedly. “If 
you mean to go to Hackle Island-” 

“Father has engaged the handsomest suite at 
the hotel there,” Belle broke in. “I fancy Doctor 
Stanley will not feel like taking you all there, 
Nellie. It is very expensive.” 

“Oh, no, if we go we sha’n’t be able to live at 
the hotel,” confessed the clergyman’s daughter. 

“But the children will get the benefit of the sea 

„ * >) 

“Oh!” murmured Amy. “Hackle Island is a 
nice place.” 

“But it ain’t as nice as mine!” Henrietta sud¬ 
denly broke in. “My island is the best. And I 
wouldn’t let those girls on it—not on my part 
of it.” 

“What is that ridiculous child talking about?” 
demanded Belle scornfully, while Bill Brewster 
continued to crawl about under his car to discover 
if possible what had happened to it. “What does 
she mean?” 



“I got an island, and everything,” announced 
Henrietta. “I’m going to be just as rich as you 
are, but I won’t be so mean.” 

“Then you would better begin by not talking 
meanly,” advised Jessie, admonishingly. 

“Well,” sniffed Henrietta, “I haven’t got to let 
’em on my island if I don’t want to, have I?” 

“You needn’t fret,” laughed Sally Moon. “Your 
island is like your witch’s curse. All in your mind.” 

“Is that so ?” flared out little Henrietta. “Your 
old picnic was just spoiled by my bad weather, 
wasn’t it? Well, then, wait till you try to get on 
my island,” and she shook a threatening head, and 
even her green parasol, in her earnestness. 

Sally laughed again scornfully. But Belle 
flounced out of the automobile. 

“Come on!” she exclaimed. “Bill will never get 
this car fixed.” 

“Oh, yes, I will, Belle,” came Bill’s muffled voice 
from under the car. “I always do.” 

“Well, who wants to wait all day for you to 
repair it, and then ride home with a fellow all 
smeared up with oil and soot? Come on, Sally.” 

Sally Moon meekly followed. That was how 
she kept in Belle Ringold’s good graces. You had 
to do everything Belle said, and do just as she did, 
or you could not be friends with her. 

“Well,” Monty Shannon drawled, “as far as I 
think, you both can go. I won’t weep none. But 



Bill’s going to weep when he tells his father about 
this busted carriage.” 

“All Bill has to do is to deny it,” snapped Belle 
Ringold. “Nobody would believe you against our 

“Nobody but the judge,” laughed Amy. “Don’t 
be such a goose, Belle. We will all testify for 
Mr. Cabbage-head Tony.” 

Bill crawled out from under his automobile as 
the two girls who had been passengers walked 
away. He was just as much smutted as Belle said 
he would be. But he looked after her and her 
friend without betraying any dissatisfaction. 

“It’s all right,” he said to Monty. “I guess you 
couldn’t help being in the way. This car does go 
wrong once in a while. You can jump in the car 
and I’ll take you home and tell the chap that owns 
the pony how it happened. He can come to my 
father and get paid.” 

“Not much,” said the Dogtown boy. “I’ll have 
to lead the pony. But you can take Hen back to 

“Is it safe?” asked Jessie, for Henrietta had 
started for the red car at once. She was crazy 
about automobiles. 

“If it goes bad again I can get out,” said the 
child importantly. “I won’t wait for it to turn 

“She will be all right,” said Bill Brewster 



gloomily. “Father will make me pay for this car¬ 
riage out of my own money. I’m rather glad we 
are going where I can’t use the machine for the 
rest of the summer. It eats up all my pocket 

“Where are your folks going, Billy?” asked 
Jessie politely. 

“Oh, we always go to Hackle Island.” 

“Everybody is going to an island,” laughed 
Amy. “I guess we’ll have to accept Hen’s invita¬ 
tion and go to her island, Jess.” 

“It’s a lot better island than that one those girls 
are going to,” repeated Henrietta, with confidence, 
climbing into the red car. 

When the latter was gone, and Monty Shannon 
was out of sight, leading the brown and white 
pony, the three Roselawn girls discussed little 
Henrietta’s story of her sudden wealth, and par¬ 
ticularly of her possession of Station Island, wher¬ 
ever that was. 

“Of course, we won’t understand the rights of 
the matter till we see Bertha,” said Jessie. “She 
must know all about it.” 

“I wonder where Station Island is situated?” 
Amy observed. “Let’s hunt an atlas— Oh, no, 
We won’t! Here is something better.” 

“Something better than an atlas?” laughed 
Nell. “A walking geography?” 

“You said it,” rejoined Amy. “Papa knows all 



about such things. I can’t even remember how 
New Melford is bounded; but you’d think he had 
been all around the world, and walked every step 
of the way.” 

“And you never will know, Amy Drew, if you 
ask somebody every time you want to know any¬ 
thing and never stop to work the thing out your¬ 
self,” admonished Jessie. 

“Oh, piffle!” exclaimed the careless Amy. 
“What’s the use?” 

Mr. Drew was just coming out of his own 
grounds across the boulevard, and his daughter 
hailed him. 

“Want to ask you an important question, papa,” 
cried Amy, running to meet him and hanging to 
his arm. 

“Ahem! If you expect advice, I expect a re¬ 
tainer,” said the lawyer soberly. 

“Nothing like that! I know you lawyers. I am 
going to wait to see if your advice is worth any¬ 
thing,” declared his gay daughter. “Now, listen! 
Did you ever hear of Station Island?” 

“I have just heard of it,” responded the gentle¬ 
man promptly. 

“Oh! Don’t be so dreadfully smart,” said 
Amy. “I know I am telling you-” 

“Wrong. I had just heard of it to-day—before 
you mentioned it,” returned her father. “But I 



have known of it for a good many years, under 
another name.” 

“Then you do know where Station Island is, 
Mr. Drew?” cried Jessie, eagerly. “We do so 
want to know. 

“That is the new name they have given the place 
since the big radio station was established there. 
It is really Hackle Island, girls, and has been 
known by that name since our great-grandparents’ 



“~b"T is lucky Henrietta went away before 
papa came,” observed Amy, after they 
had discussed the strange matter at some 
length. “She certainly would have been mad to 
learn that Belle and Sally were likley to visit what 
she calls her island, without any invitation from 

“What do you suppose it all means?” asked 

“She must have heard some mixed-up account 
of an island that belonged to her family,” Nell 
said, “and got it twisted. I can’t see it any other 
way. But I must go home now, girls. The Rev¬ 
erend and the children need looking after by this 
time. Good-bye.” 

Mr. Drew did not explain until evening about 
his previous knowledge of the island in question. 
Then he came over to smoke his after-dinner cigar 
on the Norwood’s porch, and he and Jessie’s 
father discussed the matter within the hearing of 
their two very much interested daughters. When 
their fathers did not object, Jessie and Amy often 




“listened in” on business conversations, and this 
one was certainly important to the minds of the 
two chums. 

“Did Blair telephone you to-day again about 
that matter?” Mr. Norwood asked his neighbor. 

“No. It was Mr. Stratford himself. Takes an 
interest in Blair’s affairs, you know.” 

“It really concerns that Bertha Blair who was 
of so much value to me in the Ellison will case. 
You remember?” observed Mr. Norwood. 

“And it concerns this little freckle-faced child 
the girls have had around here so much. Actually, 
if the thing pans out the way it looks, Norwood, 
that child has got something coming to her.” 

“She has a good deal coming to her if she can 
prove she is the daughter of Padriac Haney,” said 
Jessie’s father, with vigor. 

“You are inclined to take the matter up?” 

“I am. I’ll do all I can. Blair has no money 
to risk-” 

“He won’t need any,” said Mr. Drew, quite as 
decisively. “If you can spend your time on it, 
so can I. It won’t break us, Norwood, to help the 

“Not at all,” agreed Mr. Norwood, generously. 

“But is it really true, Daddy, that Hackle Isl¬ 
and belongs to little Henrietta and Bertha?” 
asked Jessie. 

“A good part of it, apparently. All of the mid- 



die of the island,” he returned. “The Govern¬ 
ment owns Sable Point where the old lighthouse 
stands and where the radio station is now estab¬ 
lished. That has been a government reservation 
for years. At the other end is the Hackle Island 
Hotel, always popular with a certain class of 
moneyed people.” 

“I have been there,” said Mr. Drew, nodding. 
“But there is a bunch of bungalows in be¬ 

“By the way,” interposed Mr. Norwood, “my 
wife said something about taking one of those for 
a month or two. I have the tentative offer of 

“O-oh!” gasped Amy, clasping her hands. 

Her father laughed outright. “See,” he said 
to the other lawyer. “You are going to have a 
guest, if you go there. I can see that.” 

“The bungalow is big enough for the girls and 
their friends,” admitted Jessie’s father. 

“That beats the farm!” cried Amy to Jessie. 

“It will be nice. And we can take Henrietta 
and Bertha along.” 

“They are going in any case, I hear from Blair,” 
said Mr. Norwood briskly. “His wife will take 
them. There is an old farmhouse that belongs to 
the Haney estate. You see, a part of the bunga¬ 
low colony and the Club golf course are included in 
the old Haney place. The real estate men who 



exploited the island a few years ago did not trouble 
themselves to get clear title to the land. They 
made their bit and got out. Now there are two 
parties laying claim to the middle of the island.” 

“Oh, dear!” cried Jessie. “Then it isn’t sure 
that little Henrietta will get her island? Too 

“Personally I am pretty sure that she will,” said 
Mr. Norwood, with conviction. “But it will cause 
a court fight. There is another claimant, as I 


s You are right,” agreed Mr. Drew. “And he 
is a fighter. Ringold never gives up a thing until 
he has to.” 

“Goodness!” breathed Amy. “Not Belle’s 

“It is the New Melford Ringold,” said Mr. 
Drew. “His claim is based upon an old note that 
the original Padriac Haney gave some money¬ 
lender. Ringold bought the paper along with a 
lot of other fishy documents. You know, he has 
always been a note shaver.” 

“I know something about that,” said Mr. Nor¬ 
wood, grimly. “Don’t worry too much about it. 
Ringold may have a lot of money, but he won’t 
spend too much to try to make good a bad claim. 
He doesn’t throw a spat to catch a herring; he 
would only risk a sprat for whale bait,” and he 



However, the two girls had heard quite enough 
to yield food for chatter for some time to come. 
Jessie had kept close watch of the time by her 
wrist-watch. She now beckoned her chum, and 
they ran indoors and up the stairs to Jessie’s 

“It is almost time for the concert from Strat- 
fordtown,” Jessie said. “And Bertha telephoned 
me yesterday that she hoped to sing to-night.” 

“Lucky girl!” said Amy, sighing. “It’s nice to 
have an uncle who bosses a broadcasting station. 
But, never mind, Jess, we had fun the time we were 
on the program. Say! the boys will be home to¬ 

“No! Do you mean it?” 

“Papa got a wireless. The Marigold now has 
a real radio telegraph sending and receiving set. 
Darry says it is great. But, of course, you and I 
can’t get anything from them because we do not 
know Morse.” 

“Let’s learn!” exclaimed Jessie, excitedly. 

“Sometimes when you get your set tuned wrong 
you hear some of the code. But the telegraph 
wave-length is much, much longer than the phone 
lengths. Guess you’d have a job listening in for 
anything Darry and Burd Ailing would send from 
that old yacht.” 

“We can learn the Morse alphabet, just the 
same, can’t we?” demanded her chum. 



“Now, there you go again !” complained Amy. 
“Always suggesting something that is work. I 
don’t want to have to learn a single thing until we 
go back to school in the fall. Believe me!” 

Her emphasis only made Jessie laugh. She ad¬ 
justed the crystal detector, or cat’s whisker, as the 
girls called it, and then began to tune the coil until, 
with the tabs at her ears, she could hear a voice 
rising out of the void, nearer and nearer, until it 
seemed speaking directly in her ear: 

“With which announcement we begin our eve¬ 
ning’s entertainment from the Stratfordtown Sta¬ 
tion. The first number on the program being-” 

“Do you hear that? It is Mr. Blair himself,” 

whispered Amy eagerly. “And he says-” 

Jessie held up her hand for silence as the super¬ 
intendent of the broadcasting station at Stratford¬ 
town went on to announce, “Miss Bertha Blair, 
who will sing ‘Will o’ the Wisp,’ Mr. Angler being 
at the piano. I thank you.” 

The piano prelude came to the ears of the Rose- 
lawn girls almost instantly. Jessie and Amy 
smiled at each other. They were proud to think 
that they had something to do with Bertha’s be¬ 
coming a favorite on the Stratfordtown programs, 
and likewise that their interest in the girl first 
served to call the superintendent’s attention to 
her. In “The Roselawn Girls on the Program" 



is told of Bertha’s first meeting with her uncle who 
had never before seen her. 

They listened to the hour’s program and then 
tuned the receiver to get what was being broad¬ 
casted from a city station—a talk on economics 
that interested to a degree even the two high- 
school girls. For frivolous as Amy usually ap¬ 
peared to be, she was a good scholar and, like 
Jessie, stood well in her classes. 

There was not much but a desire for fun in 
Amy’s mind the next morning, however, when she 
ran across the boulevard to the Norwood place. 
It was right after breakfast, and she wore her 
middy blouse and short skirt, with canvas ties on 
her feet. She trilled for Jessie under the radio¬ 
room windows: 

“You-oo! You-oo! ‘Mary Ann! My Mary 
Ann! I’ll meet you on the corner!’ Come-on-out!” 

Jessie appeared from the breakfast room, and 
Momsy, as Jessie always called her mother, looked 
out, too. 

“What have you girls on your minds for this 
morning?” she asked. 

“Our new canoe, Mrs. Norwood. You know* 
we gave the old one to those Dogtown youngsters, 
and our new one has never been christened yet.” 

“Shall I bring a hat?” asked Jessie, hesitatingly. 

“What for? To bail out the canoe? Bill says 
it is perfectly sound and safe,” laughed Amy. 



“You are getting wee freckles on your nose, Jes¬ 
sie,” said Mrs, Norwood. 

“Why worry?” demanded Amy. “You can 
never get as many as Hen wears—and her nose 
isn’t as big as yours.” 

“It is by good luck, not good management, that 
you do not freckle, Amy Drew,” declared her 
chum. “I’ll take the shade hat.” 

“Why not a sunbonnet?” scoffed Amy. 

But Jessie laughed and ran out with her hat. It 
floated behind her, held by the two strings, as she 
raced her chum down to the boat landing. The 
Norwood boathouse sheltered several different 
craft, among others a motor-boat that Amy’s 
brother, Darrington Drew, owned. But Darry 
and his chum, Burd Ailing, had lost their interest 
in the Water Thrush since they had been allowed 
to put into commission, and navigate themselves, 
the steam-yacht Marigold, which was a legacy to 
Darry from an uncle now deceased. 

The girls got the new canoe out without assist¬ 
ance from the gardener or his helper. They were 
thoroughly capable out-of-door girls. They had 
erected the antenna for Jessie’s radio set without 
any help. Both were good boatmen—“if a girl 
can be a man,” to quote Amy—and they could 
handle the Water Thrush as well as the canoe. 

They launched and paddled out from the shore 
m perfect form. The sun was scorching, but there 



was a tempering breeze. It was therefore cooler 
out toward the middle of the lake than inshore. 
The glare of the sun on the water troubled even 
the thoughtless Amy. 

“Oh, aren’t you the wise little owl, Jess Nor¬ 
wood!” she cried. “To think of wearing a sun- 
hat! And here am I with nothing to shelter me 
from the torrid rays. I am going to burn and peel 
and look horrid—I know I shall I I’ll not be fit 
to go to Hackle Island—if we go.” 

“Oh, we’re going, all right!” 

“You’re mighty certain, from the way you talk. 
Has it been really settled? ‘There’s many a slip’ 
and all that, you know.” 

“Father asked Momsy about it at breakfast be¬ 
fore he went to town, and she said she had quite 
made up her mind,” Jessie said. “He will make 
the arrangements with the owner of the house.” 

“Oh, goody! A bungalow?” cried Amy. 

“How big, dear ? Can the boys come ?” 

“Of course. There are fourteen rooms. It is 
a big place. We will shut up the house here and 
send down most of the serving people ahead. We 
shall have at least one good month of salt air.” 

“Hooray!” cried Amy, swinging her paddle 
recklessly. “And I’ve got just the most scrump¬ 
tious idea, Jess. I’ll tell you-” 

But something unexpected happened just then 



that quite drove out of Amy Drew’s mind the idea 
she had to impart to her chum. She brought the 
paddle she had waved down with an awful smack 
on the water. The spray spattered all about. 
Jessie flung herself back to escape some of the in¬ 
wash, and by so doing her gaze struck upon some¬ 
thing on the surface of the lake, far ahead. 

“Oh! Oh!” she shrieked. “What is that, 
Amy? Somebody is drowning!” 



A MY Drew sat up in the canoe as high as 
r\ she could and stared ahead. Jessie’s ob¬ 
servation suggested trouble; but Amy 
almost immediately burst out laughing. 

“‘Drowning!’” she repeated. “Why, Jess 
Norwood, you know that you couldn’t drown those 
Dogtown kids. And if that isn’t some of them— 
Monty Shannon, and the Costello twins, and the 
rest of them—I’m much mistaken.” 

“But see those barrels and tubs and what-all!” 
gasped her more serious friend. “Look there! 
It’s Henrietta!” 

The fleet of strange barges that Jessie had first 
spied included, it seemed, almost every sort of 
craft that could be improvised. A rainwater bar¬ 
rel led the procession of “boats,” and Mont¬ 
morency Shannon was in that, paddling with some 
kind of paddle that he wielded with no little skill. 

There were two wooden washtubs in which the 
Costello twins voyaged. One was much lower in 
the water than the other, giving evidence of having 
shipped more water than its mate. In a water- 
trough that had been filched from somebody’s 
barnyard was little Henrietta and Charlie Foley. 




“They will be overboard I” exclaimed Jessie, 
anxiously. “Drive ahead, Amy—do!” 

The wind was blowing directly in their faces 
and from the direction of the Dogtown landing, 
where the flotilla had evidently embarked. The 
tubs spun around and around, the half-barrel in 
which Monty Shannon sat tried to perform the 
same gyrations, but Henrietta and the Foley boy 
blundered ahead. It was plain to Jessie’s mind 
that the reckless children could not have sailed in 
the other direction had they wished to do so. 

“What do you come out here for?” she shrieked 
when the canoe drew near. 

“Oh, Miss Jessie, we are going to the Carter 
place,” sang out Henrietta. 

“But the Carter place is down the lake, not up I” 
exclaimed the exasperated Jessie. 

“Yes. But the wind shifted,” said Henrietta. 

“Where is your big canoe?” demanded Amy, 
who could scarcely paddle from laughter, in spite 
of the evident danger the children were in. 

“That is what we started after,” said Mont¬ 
morency Shannon, his red head sticking out of the 
barrel like a full-blown holyhock. “It got away in 
the night, or somebody let it go, and we saw it 
away down by the Carter place. So—so we 
thought we’d go after it.” 

“And I warrant your mothers don’t know what 
you are doing,” Jessie said sternly. 



“Oh, they will!” cried Henrietta, virtuously. 

“When they miss the washtubs,” put in Amy, 
with laughter. 

“When we tell ’em,” corrected little Henrietta. 
“And we always tell ’em everything we do.” 

“I see. After it is all over,” Jessie commented. 

“We-ell,” said Henrietta, pouting, “we can’t tell 
’em what we have done before we do it, can we? 
For we never know ourselves.” 

“You certainly cannot beat that for logic,” de¬ 
clared Amy. She drove the head of the canoe tp 
the tub of the nearest Costello twin. “Get in here 
carefully, Micky. You are going down.” 

“That’s ’cause Aloysius always gets the best 
tub. He ain’t sinking none,” said Michael Cos¬ 
tello, scowling at his twin. 

“Quick!” commanded Amy, and the disgruntled 
Costello swarmed over the side of the canoe. “We 
can take in one more. Who is the nearest 
drowned ?” 

“I’m sitting in half a foot of water,” confessed 
the red-haired Shannon, grinning. 

“A little soaking will do you good. I can guess 
who suggested this crazy venture,” Jessie said. 
“Come, Henrietta.” 

I need her to trim ship!” cried Charlie Foley. 

“What do you want to trim your ship with— 
red, white and blue?” demanded Amy. “If that 
trough sinks I know you can swim, Charlie.” 



The crowd would have had some difficulty in 
getting back to shore with the wind blowing as 
freshly as it did if the girls had not come along 
and, in relays, helped them all back. 

“What Mrs. Shannon will say when she sees her 
two washtubs floating off like that, I don’t know,” 
sighed Henrietta, after they were all ashore. 

“One of ’em’s sunk, so she can’t see it,” Micky 
Costello said calmly. “Maybe the other will go 
down. Don’t you big girls say anything and may¬ 
be'she won’t find it out.” 

Jessie and Amy had headed for Dogtown in the 
first place wthout any expectation of playing a life¬ 
saving part. Jessie thought they ought to see 
Mrs. Foley, who was fleshy and easy of disposi¬ 
tion, and ask her about Henrietta’s visit. So they 
accompanied the freckle-faced little girl to the 
Foley house. 

“I ain’t telling ’em all they can come to visit my 
island, Miss Jessie,” said the little girl. “But of 
course, the Foleys could come. Mrs. Blair and 
Bertha wouldn’t mind just them, of course. 
There’s only Mrs. Foley and Charlie and Billy 
and the baby and three more boys and—and— 
well, that’s all, only Mr. Foley. He wouldn’t 
want to come.” 

“You would better be sure of your island, and 
just how much you own of it, Hen,” advised Amy 



Drew. “It may not be big enough to hold every- 
body you want to invite.” 

“Why, Miss Amy, it’s a awful big island,’’ de¬ 
clared little Henrietta. “It’s got a whole golf link 
on it. I heard Mr. Blair say so.” 

The “bulgy” Mrs. Foley welcomed the Rose- 
lawn girls with her usual copiousness. Of course, 
she had the youngest I oley in her lap, and the 
housework was “at sixes and sevens,’ since little 
Henrietta had been at Stratfordtown for a week. 

“How I’m going to git used, young ladies, to 
havin’ that child away is more than I can say. 
’Tis a great mistake I have all boys for childers. 
There is nothing like a smart girl around the 

Jessie, very curious, asked the woman what she 
knew about Henrietta’s wonderful strry of wealth. 

“Sure, I’ve always expected it vould come to 
her some day,” declared Mrs. Foley. “Her 
mother, who was a good neighbor of mine before 
we moved out here to the lake, said Hen’s father 
come of rich folks. They used to drive their own 
carriage. That was before automobiles come in 
so plenteous.” 

“Did Bertha ever say anything about it, Mrs. 

“Not much. ’Tis Hen will be the rich wan. 
Oh, yes. And glad I am if the child is about to 
come into her own. She’s no business to be run- 



nlng down here every chance she gets. I had him¬ 
self telephone to Bertha when he went to town 
this morning, and it is likely she will be here after 
the child. Hen’s as wild as a hawk.” 

Bertha Blair, in fact, appeared in a hired car 
before Jessie and Amy were ready to return in 
their canoe to Roselawn. She was quite as ex¬ 
cited as Henrietta had been about the strange for¬ 
tune that promised to come into their lives. Ber¬ 
tha could tell the chums from Roselawn many 
more particulars of the Padriac Haney property. 

“If little Henrietta will only be good and not 
be so wild and learn her lessons and mind what 
she’s told,” Bertha said seriously, “maybe she will 
have money and an island—or part of one, any¬ 
way. But she does not behave very well. She is 
as wild as a March hare.” 

Little Henrietta looked serious for her; but 
Mrs. Foley took her part at once. 

“Sure don’t be expectin’ too much of the child 
at wance, Bertha. She’s run as wild as the wind 
itself here. She’s fought and played with these 
Dogtown kids since she was able to toddle around. 
What would ye expect?” 

“But she must learn,” declared the older girl. 
“Mrs. Blair won’t take us to the island this sum¬ 
mer if she is not good.” 

“Then I’ll go myself,” announced Henrietta. 



“It’s my island, ain’t it? Who has a better right 

Jessie took a hand at this point, shaking her 
head gravely at the freckled little girl. 

“Do you suppose, Henrietta Haney, that your 
friends—like Mrs. Foley or Mrs. Blair, or even 
Amy and I—will want to come to your island to 
see you if you are not a good girl?” 

“Say, if I get rich can’t I do like I want to— 
like other rich folks?” 

“You most certainly cannot. Rich people, if 
they are to be loved, must be even more careful in 
their conduct than poor folks.” 

“We-ell,” confessed the freckled little girl 
frankly, “I’d rather be rich than be loved. If I 
can’t be both easy, I’ll be rich.” 

“Such amazing worldliness 1” sighed Amy, rais¬ 
ing her hands in mock horror. 

But Jessie Norwood truly wished the little girl 
to be nice. Poor little Henrietta, however, had 
much to unlearn. She chattered continually about 
the island she owned and the riches she was to 
enjoy. Fhe smaller children of Dogtown followed 
her—and the green parasol—about as though 
they were enchanted. 

“ Tis a witch she certainly is,” declared Mrs. 
Foley. “She’s bewitched them all, so she has. 
But I’m lost widout her, meself. When a woman 



has six—and them all boys—and a man that 

This statement of her personal affairs had been 
so often heard by the three girls that they all tried 
to sidetrack Mrs. Foley’s complaint. It was Jes¬ 
sie, however, who advanced a really good reason 
for getting out of the Foley house. 

“I promised Monty Shannon I would look at 
his radio set,” she said, jumping up. “You will 
excuse us for a little, Mrs. Foley? You are not 
going back to Stratfordtown at once, Bertha?” 

“Before long. I have only hired the car for the 
forenoon. The man has another job this after¬ 
noon. And I must find that Henrietta again,” for 
the freckle-faced little girl was as lively, so Amy 
said, as a water-bug—“one of those skimmery 
things with long legs that dart along the surface 
of the water.” 

The trio went out and across the cinder-covered 
yard to the Shannon house. The immediate sur¬ 
roundings of Dogtown were squalid, although its 
site upon the edge of Lake Mononset might have 
been made very pleasant indeed. 

“If these boys like Monty Shannon and some of 
the girls stay at home when they grow up they 
surely will improve the looks of the village,” Jessie 
had said. “For Monty and his kind are altogether 
too smart not to want to live as other people do.” 

You’ve said it,” agreed Amy, with enthusiasm. 



“He is smart. He has a better radio receiver than 
you have. Wait till you see.” 

“How do you know?” asked the surprised Jes¬ 

“He was telling me about it. You know how 
often some ‘squeak box,’ or other amateur oper¬ 
ator, breaks in on our concerts.” 

“We-ell, not so often now,” Jessie said. “I 
have learned more about tuning and wave-lengths. 
But, of course, I have only a single circuit crystal 
receiving set. I have been talking to Dad about 
getting a better one.” 

“Monty will show you,” Amy said with con¬ 
fidence, as they knocked at the Shannon door. 

The little cottage was small. Downstairs there 
were but two rooms. The door gave access to the 
kitchen, and beyond was the “sitting-room,” of 
which Monty’s mother was inordinately proud. 
She was a widow, and helped herself and her chil¬ 
dren by doing fine laundry work for the wealthy 
people of New Melford. 

From the front room when the girls entered 
came sounds that they recognized—radio sounds 
which held their instant attention, although they 
were merely market reports at that hour in the 

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Bertha Blair said, clasp¬ 
ing her hands. “I never can get over the wonder 
of it.” 



“Same here,” Amy declared. “When Jess and 
I listened to you singing the ‘Will o’ the Wisp' last 
night it seemed almost shivery that we should 
recognize the very tones of your voice out of the 

“Huh!” exclaimed Montmorency, grinning. 
“I got so I know the announcers, too. When that 
Mr. Blair speaks I know him. Of course, I know 
Mr. Mark Stratford’s voice, for I’ve talked with 
him. I wouldn’t have such a line machine here, 
only he advised me.” 

“Tell me,” Jessie said, “what is the difference 
between my receiving set and yours, Monty?” 

“If you want to hear clearly and keep outside 
radio out of your machine, use a regenerative ra¬ 
dio set with an audion detector. The whole busi¬ 
ness, Miss Jessie, is in the detector, after all. A 
regenerative set of this kind is selective enough— 
that’s the expression Mr. Mark used—to enable 
any one to tune out all but a few commercial sta¬ 
tions. And they don’t often butt in to annoy you. 
For sure, you’ll kill all the amateur squeak-boxes 
and other transmission stations of that class. 

“Now, I’m going to tune in for Stratfordtown. 
They are sending the Government weather reports 
and mother wants to know should she water her 
tomatoes or depend on a thunderstorm,” and he 
grinned at Mrs. Shannon, who stood, an awkward 



but smiling figure, in the doorway between the two 

“ ’Tis too wonderful a thing for me to under¬ 
stand, at all, at all,” admitted the widow. “How¬ 
ever can they tell you out of that machine there 
is a thunderstorm coming?” 

“Listen I” exclaimed the boy eagerly. There 
was a horn on the set and no need for earphones. 
He had tuned the market reports out. From the 
horn came a different voice. But the words the 
visitors heard had nothing to do with the report 
on the weather. “What’s the matter?” demanded 
Monty Shannon. “Listen to this, will you?” 

“. . . she will come home at once. This is 
serious—a serious call for Bertha Blair.” 

“Do you hear that?” almost shrieked Amy 
Drew. “Why, it must mean you, Bertha!” 



“TJTOW ridiculous!” Jessie cried. “That 
I I surely cannot mean you, Bertha.” 

“Hush!” begged Amy. “It’s un¬ 

Again the slow voice enunciated: “Bertha Blair 
will come home at once. This is serious—a seri¬ 
ous call for Bertha Blair.” 

N “Criminy!” shouted Monty Shannon. “I know 
who that is. It’s Mr. Mark Stratford.” 

“He is calling for you, Bertha,” said Jessie. 
“Can it be possible?” 

“Something has happened!” gasped Bertha, 
starting for the door of the cottage. “Where is 
that child?” 

“Never mind Henrietta. We will take care of 
her,” Jessie called after the worried girl, wishing 
to relieve her anxiety. 

Bertha ran out of the house, and the next mo¬ 
ment the Roselawn girls heard the car start. Ber¬ 
tha was being whisked away to Stratfordtown. 
The voice of Mark Stratford continued to repeat 
the call several times. Then he read the weather 
report, as expected. 




“I can tell you one thing,” Jessie said eagerly 
to her chum and the Shannons. “Mark Stratford 
does not usually give out the announcements from 
that station. Now, does he, Monty?” 

“No, ma’am, Miss Jessie. Only once in a 

“Then something has happened at 'the Blair 
House, or to Mr. Blair himself. That is why they 
send out this call, hoping that somebody down 
here would get it and tell Bertha.” 

“Think! How funny it must feel to hear your 
name called out of the air in that way,” Amy re¬ 

“Why, we had that experience ourselves,” Jes¬ 
sie said. “Don’t you remember? Mark thanked 
us publicly for finding his watch.” 

“But that was not just like this,” replied Amy. 
“Anyway, there is something unsatisfactory about 
radio—and always will be—until we can ‘talk 
back’ as well as receive. See! If Monty had a 
sending set as well as a receiving, he could have 
answered Mark Stratford, and told him Bertha 
had heard the call and was starting home without 
any delay.” 

“I am afraid something really serious has hap¬ 
pened,” Jessie said. “Let’s go back home and 
call up Stratfordtown on the telephone.” 

“We’ll take Hen along with us,” agreed Amy. 
“You said we’d take care of her.” 



This the Roselawn girls did. When they set 
out from Dogtown in their canoe, Henrietta sat 
amidships. She was delighted to visit the Nor¬ 
woods. She had stayed over night with Jessie 

They passed the flotilla of tubs and barrels that 
the Dogtown children had set afloat. Mrs. Shan¬ 
non would never see her washtubs again. Mean¬ 
while the Costello twins and Charlie Foley had set 
out to walk around the lake and recover the big 
canoe from the place where it had drifted ashore 
on the other side. 

“They certainly are the worst young ones,” 
commented Amy Drew. “Always in michief of 
some kind.” 

“There ain’t much else to get into at Dogtown,” 
said little Henrietta soberly. “We don’t have any 
boy scouts or girl scouts or anything like that. 
They have them at Stratfordtown. Mrs. Blair 
told me about ’em. I guess I’ll join the girl scouts 
and take ’em all out on my island.” 

Little Henrietta was still intensely excited about 
“her island.” What the Roselawn girls heard 
over the telephone when they got home again was 
not encouraging. It seemed at first that Henrietta 
must be disappointed. 

Jessie ran in to the telephone as soon as they 
arrived. She did not know the number of Mr. 
Blair’s private telephone—if he had one. But she 



knew how to get in touch with Mark Stratford 
whether he was at his home or at the offices of the 
Stratford Electric Company. She was able to 
speak with the young man almost at once, and 
questioned him excitedly. 

“Yes. I know that Bertha has got home. I 
took a chance to reach her at Dogtown when I 
heard where she had gone,” Mark Stratford said. 
“You know Monty Shannon is a protege of mine, 
and I have an idea he is listening in most of the 
time at that set he has built.” 

“But what is the matter? Has Mr. Blair been 

“It is Mrs. Blair. She fell downstairs and has 
hurt herself severely. Did it not ten minutes after 
Bertha went out. Broke her leg. She will be in 
bed for weeks. I understand that they were plan¬ 
ning to go away for the summer,” said Mark, sym¬ 
pathetically. “But that cannot be now. At least, 
I suppose Bertha will have to remain to take care 
of her aunt.” 

“Sh! Don’t tell little Hen,” begged Amy 
Drew, when she heard this. “The child will be 
heartbroken. Without Bertha and Mrs. Blair 
Hennie can’t go to her island.” 

Jessie made no audible reply to this. And she 
certainly had no intention of telling Henrietta the 
very worst. She discussed the situation with 
Momsy, and before Daddy Norwood returned 



from town that afternoon mother and daughter 
had just about perfected a very nice plan for little 

“Well, you are to go to Hackle Island, Mom- 
sy,” Mr, Norwood said, when he first came in. 
“I have signed the agreement. You can send the 
people down to make the house ready to-morrow, 
if you like. I understand there will not be much 
to do about the place. We can all go by the end 
of the week.” 

“You take my breath away—as usual,” laughed 
Jessie’s mother. “You are always so prompt, 

“x4nd you will have a house full of company, I 
suppose?” he rejoined, but looking at Jessie with 
a smile. 

“We are going to have one guest you didn’t ex¬ 
pect, Daddy,” rejoined his daughter. She told 
him swiftly of what had happened at the Blair 
home in Stratfordtown. “So that spoils it all for 
little Henrietta, you see, Daddy, if we don’t take 
her. And you know she is crazy to see what she 
calls her island.” 

“Sure that she won’t make you and Momsy 
crazy, Jess?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “That 
child is as lively as an eel and as noisy as a steam¬ 

“How can you say such things, Daddy?” cried 
Jessie, shaking a reproving head. “We have 



agreed to take her if you and the Blairs are willing. 
And Momsy and I will try to teach her the things 
she’ll need to know.” 

“M-mm. Well, perhaps you will have success. 
You have done pretty well with me,” laughed Mr. 
Norwood, who made believe that his wife and 
daughter had “brought him up by hand.” “Being 
guided in any way will be a novel experience for 
little Hen, that is sure.” 

He agreed so well with his wife’s and Jessie’s 
plans, however, that he called Mr. Blair up that 
evening and proposed to keep little Henrietta and 
take her to Hackle, or Station, Island, while Mrs. 
Blair was confined to her house. As Jessie’s father, 
along with Mr. Drew, had taken legal charge of 
Henrietta’s affairs for the time being, it was right 
that the orphan child should be in Mrs. Norwood’s 

“There is an almost certain chance the child is 
going to be very wealthy,” Mr. Norwood said 
seriously, to Jessie’s mother. “Her education and 
improvement cannot begin too soon. She is as 
wild as a hawk and she needs encouragement and 
government both.” 

Henrietta took quite as a matter of course every 
change that came to her. She had no particular 
affection for Mrs. Blair, for she had not known 
her long enough. She was delighted to go to “her 
island” with Jessie and her parents. As long as 



she got there and could survey her domain, little 
Henrietta was bound to be satisfied. But Jessie 
knew she would have to restrain the child in her 
desire to invite everybody she knew and liked to 
come to the island while she was there. 

The Norwood family had not even discussed 
how they were to travel to the island—by what 
route—when Amy Drew bounded in. Jessie and 
Henrietta were upstairs in Jessie’s room listening 
to the bedtime story. A little girl not much older 
than Henrietta was telling the story, and Henri¬ 
etta thought that was quite wonderful. 

“I know that Bertha and you other big girls 
sing into the radio,” the freckle-faced child said, 
when it was over. “Do you suppose Mr. Blair 
would let me recite into it like that?” 

“What would you say?” asked Amy, laughing 
as her chum and the smaller girl removed their 

“Why—why,” said Henrietta eagerly, “I would 
tell stories, too. Spotted Snake, the Witch, used 
to tell stories to Billy Foley and the other Dog- 
town kids to keep them quiet. And they liked 

“We’ll see about that when we come back from 
your island, Henrietta,” said Jessie, smiling. 

“And listen!” exclaimed Amy. “You remem¬ 
ber I said I had a great idea about our going to 
Hackle Island. I didn’t finish telling you, Jess.” 



“That is right,” her chum rejoined. “And no 
wonder, when we spied that crew of crazy ones 
venturing to sea in tubs I” and Jessie laughed. 

“Listen here,” Amy said more seriously. “The 
boys have come home. I told you they were due. 
The Marigold is all right now. Her engines and 
everything are working fine. So, why don’t we 
take this opportunity to see what she is like. 
Darry has promised us long enough.” 

“Oh, but we are going to Hackle Island!” cried 

“Station Island,” put in Henrietta. “My 

“Of course. That is what I mean,” Amy has¬ 
tened to say. “Instead of taking the train and then 
the regular boat, why not get the boys to take us 
all the way from the yacht club moorings to Sta¬ 
tion Island, or whatever it is called?” 

“Why, Amy, that would be fine!” cried Jessie. 
“Will Darry do it?” 

“He will or I shall disown him as a brother,” 
declared her chum, with vigor. 

“Let’s run and see what Momsy says!” ex¬ 
claimed the eager Jessie. 

“We’d better go and hear what she says,” 
laughed the irrepressible. “Come on, Hen! You 
want to be in it. Would’nt you like a boat ride 
to your island?” 

“Why, how do you suppose I was going to get 



there?” demanded the little maid. “Automobiles 
don’t run to islands—nor yet steam trains. But 
I hope the boat won’t leak as bad as that trough 
me and Charlie Foley sailed in this morning,” she 
added thoughtfully. 



T HE plan Amy had originated for going to 
Station Island on her brother’s yacht was 
approved by Jessie’s mother and father, 
and in the end the Drew family agreed to make 
the voyage, too. Mrs. Norwood sent down her 
housekeeper and a staff of servants in advance so 
that everything would be in readiness for the 
yachting party. 

A few articles of clothing had been bought for 
Henrietta when she had gone to the Blairs. But, 
besides being few, they were hardly suitable for 
an outing on Station Island. So Jessie and Amy 
were allowed to use their own taste in selecting 
the child’s outfit for the island adventure. And 
how they did revel in this novel undertaking! 

Being down town on these errands so much dur¬ 
ing the following two days, the Roselawn girls 
were bound to fall in with Belle Ringold and 
Sally Moon, as well as with other members of 
their class in the high school. Jessie, at least, 
would never have noticed Belle and her chum 
could she have avoided it. 




Amy had an overpowering fondness for a con¬ 
coction called a George Washington sundae which 
was to be found only at the New Melford Dainties 
Shop. So, of course, each shopping “spree” must 
end with a visit to the confectionary shop in ques¬ 

“Come on,” Amy said, on the second day. “I 
told Darry and Burd we’d wait for them, and we 
might as well ride home as walk. They have our 
second car. Cyprian is driving mamma to a round 
of afternoon teas and other junkets. But the 
boys won’t forget us. Come on.” 

“ ‘Come on’ means only one place to come to,” 
laughed Jessie. “I know you. What shall we do 
on that island, Amy, without any George Wash¬ 
ington sundaes?” 

“Say not so!” begged the other girl. “There 
is a fancy hotel there, they say, and perhaps it has 
a soda fountain.” 

“Hi! Amy Drew!” called a voice behind 
them, as they descended the two steps into the 
Dainties Shop. 

“Well, would you ever?” demanded Amy, look¬ 
ing around with no eagerness. “If it isn’t Sally 
Moon and, of course, Belle.” 

“Hi, Amy!” repeated Sally. “Let me ask you 

“Go ahead,” returned Amy, but in no encourag¬ 
ing tone. “It’s free to ask.” 



Sally, however, was not easily discouraged. 
Evidently Belle had put her up to ask whatever 
the question was, and to keep friendly with Belle 
Ringold Sally had to perform a good many un- 
pleasant tasks, 

“Your brother and Burd Ailing have got back 
with that yacht, haven’t they?” she demanded. 

“You are correctly informed,” answered Amy 

“We want to see them. I suppose the boat is 
all right? That is, it is safe, isn’t it?” 

“So far it hasn’t sunk with them,” returned 
Amy scornfully. 

“You needn’t be so snippy, Amy Drew,” broke 
in Belle. “We want to see your brother about 
the use of the Marigold. I suppose he will let 
it to a party—for a price?” 

“I don’t know,” said Amy, staring. 

“Why, that’s absurd!” Jessie declared, with¬ 
out thinking. “It is a pleasure boat, not a cargo 

Amy began to laugh when she saw Belle’s face. 

“They don’t even take passengers for hire,” 
she said. “Is that what you want to know?”. 

<f We want to hire a yacht to take us to Station 
Island,” Sally hastened to say. “And Belle re¬ 
membered Darrington’s boat-” 

“I don’t suppose it is fit to take such a party 
as ours will be,” interposed Belle. 



U I guess Darry won’t want to let it,” said Amy, 
seeing that the two girls were in earnest. “Be¬ 
sides, we are going down ourselves this week.” 

“Who are going where?” demanded Belle, 

“It’s the Norwoods’ party, you know,” Amy 
said, for Jessie had “shut up as tight as a clam.” 
“Mrs. Norwood has taken a bungalow there,” 

“On Station Island—Hackle Island it used to 
be called?” Sally cried. 

“That is the place. And Darry will take us 
all on the Marigold . So, I guess—” 

“We might have known it!” exclaimed Belle, 
angrily. “The Norwoods or some of that Rose- 
lawn crowd would tag along if we planned some¬ 
thing exclusive.” 

But Amy only laughed at this. “You don’t own 
that island, do you? Remember what little Hen 
Haney said about owning an island? Well, 
Hackle, or Station Island, is the one she meant. 
She owns a big slice of it.” 

“I don’t believe it!” cried Belle. 

“She does. My father says so. And he and 
Mr. Norwood are going to get it for her.” 

“They will have a fine time doing that,” sneered 
Belle. “Why, my father has a claim upon all the 
middle of the island, and he is going to make his 
claim good. That nasty little freckle-faced young 



one from Dogtown will never get a foot of Hackle 
Island—you see!” 

Amy shrugged her shoulders as she and Jessie 
took seats at a table. She knew how to aggravate 
Belle Ringold, and she sometimes rather impishly 
enjoyed bothering the proud girl. 

“And there’s one thing,” went on Belle, with 
emphasis, so exasperated that she did not see 
Nick, the clerk, who w r as waiting for her order, 
“I wouldn’t go away for the summer unless we 
went to a really fashionable hotel. No, indeed! 
Cottagers at seaside places are always of such a 
common sort!” 

Amy only laughed. Jessie remained silent. It 
really did trouble her to have these controversies 
with Belle. It was not nice and she did not feel 
right after they were over. 

“There is something wrong with us, as well as 
with Belle,” Jessie said once to Amy, on this topic. 

“I’d like to know what’s wrong with us?” her 
chum demanded. “I like that!” 

“When we squabble with Belle and Sally we 
make ourselves just as common as they are.” 

“Tut, tut! Likewise ‘go to,’ whatever.that 
means,” laughed Amy Drew. “Why, child, if we 
did not keep up our end of any controversy that 
those girls start they would walk all over us. 

However, on this occasion, and at Jessie s earn¬ 
est desire, Amy hastened the eating of her George 



Washington sundae and the two friends got out 
of the shop before Darry and Burd Ailing ap¬ 
peared in the car. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Amy’s brother, 
when the car stopped before the Dainties Shop 
and he saw his sister and Jessie waiting. “Spent 
all your money and waiting for us to take you in 
and treat you?” 

“We had ours,” Jessie replied promptly, getting 
into the tonneau. 

“Yes, indeed. ‘Home, James!’ ” Amy added, 
following her chum. 

“And so we are to be deprived of our needed 
nourishment because you piggy-wiggies have had 
enough?” demanded Burd Ailing, with serious ob¬ 
jection. “I—guess—not! Come along, Darry,” 
and he hopped out of the car. 

“You’d better look ahead before you leap,” 
giggled Amy. 

“What’s that?” asked Darry, hesitating and 
looking at his sister curiously. 

“What’s up her sleeve?” demanded Burd, with 

“You can treat Belle and Sally instead of Jessie 
and me, if you go in,” said Amy. 

“Oh, my aunt!” exclaimed Burd, and sprang 
into the automobile again. “Drive on, Darring- 
ton! If you love me take me away before those 
girls get their hooks in me.” 



“Don’t mind about you,” growled Darrington, 
starting the car. “I will look out for myself, if 
you please. I hope I never meet up with those 
two girls again.” 

At that his sister went off into uncontrollable 

“To think!” she cried. “And Belle and Sally 
are going to be all summer on Station Island!” 

“That settles it,” announced Darry. “Burd 
and I will spend our time aboard the Marigold . 
How about it, Burd?” 

“Surest thing you know. At least we can 
escape those two on the yacht.” 

And this amused Amy immensely, too. For 
was not Belle desirous of chartering the Mari¬ 



J3 EFORE she was ready to go to Station 
|~J Island Jessie Norwood had a few pur¬ 
chases to make that had nothing to do with 
little Henrietta Haney. She had decided to dis¬ 
connect her radio set and send the instrument 
down with the rest of the baggage. In addition, 
she was determined to take Monty Shannon’s ad¬ 
vice and buy the additional parts which made the 
Dogtown boy’s set so much more successful than 
her own. 

“We’ll buy wire for the antenna, of course,” 
Jessie said to Amy. “Let our old aerial stand 
till we return. All we shall have to do will be to 
hook it up again when we set up the set in my 

So they bought the wire, the lightning switch, 
and the other small parts in New Melford and 
sent them all on the truck with the trunks to the 
dock where the il *1 arigold waited. The next day 
the two families, the Norwoods and the Drews, 
as well as Burd Ailing and little Henrietta, were 
whisked to the yacht club dock in several auto¬ 




The girls had heard from Bertha over the tele¬ 
phone. And considering the state of mind and 
body that Mrs. Blair was in, the poor woman 
was probably very well content that Henrietta 
should be in Mrs. Norwood’s care for a while. 

The freckle-faced little girl was wild with ex¬ 
citement when she got aboard Darry’s yacht. She 
had never been on such a craft before. 

“I declare,” said Amy, u we’ll have to put a ball 
and chain on this kid, or she will be overboard.” 

Henrietta stared at her. “Is that one of those 
locket and chain things you wear around your 
neck? I’m going to buy me one when I get my 
island. I never did own any joolry.” 

This set Amy off into a breeze of laughter, but 
Jessie realized that Henrietta was perfectly fear¬ 
less and would need watching while they were on 
the yacht. 

The Marigold was by no means a new vessel, 
but it was roomy and seaworthy. That it was a 
coal-burner rather than a modern oil-burner, or 
with gasoline engines, did not at all decrease its 
value in the eyes of its young owner. Darry Drew 
was inordinately proud of the yacht. 

He ran it with a small crew, and he and Burd, 
or whoever of his boy friends he had aboard, did 
a share of the work. 

“I declare!” sniffed Amy, “I suppose you will 
expect Jess and me to go down and stoke the 



furnaces for you if you get short handed. Why 
not? You expect Mrs. Norwood and mamma to 
do the cooking.” 

“Oh, that’s only for this voyage. When we 
have only fellows aboard we all take turns cook¬ 
ing and get along all right.” 

“Does Burd cook?” demanded Amy, in mock 

“Well, he is pretty bad,” admitted Darry, with 
a grin. “But we let him cook only on days when 
the sea is rough.” 

“And why?” demanded his sister, with wide- 
open eyes. 

“We never feel much like eating on rough 
days,” explained Darry. “You see, the Marigold 
kicks up quite a shindy when the sea is choppy.” 

“Let us hope it will be calm all the way to 
Station Island,” Jessie- cried. 

She had her wish. At least, the wind was fair, 
the sea “kicked up no combobberation,” to quote 
her chum, and every one enjoyed the sail. If the 
Marigold was not a racing boat, her speed was 
sufficient. They had no desire to get to the island 
until the following day. 

Darry’s sailing master was a seasoned old 
mariner named Pandrick. They called him Skip¬ 
per. At noon the yacht crossed one of the many 
“banks” to which New York fishing boats sail and 



the skipper pronounced the time opportune for 

“There’s blackfish and flounders on the bottom 
and yellow-fin and maybe bass higher up. You 
won’t find a better chance, Mr. Darry,” observed 
the sailing master. 

Every one grew excited over this prospect, and 
the boys got out the tackle and bait. Even Henri¬ 
etta must fish. Jessie had been about to suggest 
a cushioned seat in the cabin for the little girl, 
with a pillow and a rug, for she had seen Henri¬ 
etta nodding after lunch. The child would not 
hear of anything like that. 

The anchor was dropped quietly and the Mari¬ 
gold swung at that mooring while the fishermen 
took their stations. Darry gave his personal at¬ 
tention to Henrietta’s bait and showed her how 
to cast her line. The little girl had been fishing 
many times, if only for fresh water fish, and she 
was not awkward. 

“Don’t you bother ’bout me, Miss Jessie,” she 
said to her mentor impatiently. “I bet I get a 
fish before you do. I ain’t so slow.” 

Amy had fixed a station for her chum beside her 
own in the shade of the awning. Mr. Norwood 
and Mr. Drew had brought their rods. Every¬ 
body was soon engaged in an occupation which 
really calls for the undivided attention of the fish- 


6 7 

erman. The boys ordered all of them to keep 

“You know/’ observed Eurd sternly, “although 
these fish out here may be dumb, they are not deaf. 
You chatterboxes keep quiet.” 

Jessie was greatly excited. She had a nibble 
on her hook, then a positive strike. 

“Oh! O-oh” she squealed under her breath. 
“There’s-—there’s something!” 

“Is it a wolf or a bear?” demanded Amy, 

“Can you get it aboard, Jess?” asked Darry, 
from the other side of the deck. 

Jessie was not awkward. She had pulled in a 
good-sized fish before. This one splashed about 
a great deal and, when she raised it to the sur¬ 
face, it looked so much like a big rubber boot 
that Jessie squealed and almost dropped it. 

“Hey! What did I say about that stuff?” 
called out Burd. “You’ll give all the fish nervous 
prostration. My goodness! What is that?” 

He hurried to give Jessie a hand in hauling up 
the heavy, slowly flapping fish. It was half as 
broad as a dining table, with one side grayish- 
white and the other slate color. The skipper gave 
it a glance and laughed, 

“Virgin,” he said. “We don’t eat that kind o’ 



“Oh, dear! isn’t it a flounder?” wailed Jessie, 

“No, no. ’Tain’t worth anything,” said the 
skipper, unhooking the heavy and ugly-looking 

They joked Jessie about the worthless flat-fish, 
but she laughed, too. Baiting again, she threw 
in, and just at that moment there was a heavy 
splash from the other side of the yacht. 

“Somebody else has got a strike,” cried Amy. 
“Who is it?” 

Nobody answered. There seemed to be nobody 
excited over a bite. The two lawyers were for¬ 
ward. Darry and Burd were aft. Jessie sud¬ 
denly dropped her line and shot across the deck 
to the other rail. 

“Oh, Amy!” she shrieked. “Where is little 

“You don’t mean she’s gone overboard?” 
gasped her chum, excitedly, and she came running 
in the wake of Jessie. 

Henrietta’s fish line was attached to a cleat on 
the yacht’s rail. She had been standing on a coil 
of rope so as to be high enough to look over into 
the sea. The fear that clamped itself upon Jessie 
Norwood’s mind was that the little girl had dived 
headlong over the rail. 

“Oh, Henrietta I” she cried. “She—she’s gone! 
She’s gone overboard, Amy.” 



Her chum was quite as fearful as Jessie was, 
but she tried to soothe her chum. 

“It can’t be, Jess! She—she wouldn’t do that! 
She just wouldn’t!” 

“But you heard that big splash, didn’t you?” 
cried the frightened Jessie. Then she began to 
shout as loud as she could: “Help! Help! Henri¬ 
etta’s overboard! She’s gone overboard, I am 
sure I” 



J ESSIE’S cry startled everybody on deck and 
Darry and Burd came running from the 

“Where is she? Do you see her? Throw out 
a buoy!” exclaimed the young owner of the yacht. 
“Hey, Skipper Pandrick! Lower the boat.” 
“Man overboard!” shouted Burd Ailing. 

“Get out!” exclaimed Darry. “It’s not a man 
at all. It’s little Hen. Is that right, Jessie ? Did 
you see her fall?” 

“No-o,” replied Jessie. “But she’s not here. 
Where else could she have gone?” 

Burd stared up and all about. Amy said 

“You needn’t look into the air, Burd. Hen 
certainly didn’t fly away.” 

The skipper arrived, but he was not excited. 
“Who did you say had gone overboard, Mr. 
Darry?” he asked. 

“What does it matter? Can’t we save her 
without so much red tape?” snapped Darry. 
“Come on, Skipper! Get out the boat.” 

“You mean the little girl who stood right 



here? asked the man. “Well, now, I saw how 

she was playing her line. She didn’t have it 
fastened to a cleat. And she sure didn't just now 
fasten it when she went overboard. No, I guess 

mulrew. ayb ' he U rightcried 

Well, I declare!” grumbled Darry. “It takes 
you girls to stir up excitement.” 

. “ But wBere is «ttle Hen?” Amy asked, whirl- 
mg around to face her brother. 

1 he J , a . 11 stared at one another. The skipper 
wagged his head. 

“You’d better look around, alow and aloft, and 
see ,f she am t to be found. If she did go down, 
she am t come up again, that’s sure.” 

‘‘But that splash!” cried Jessie, anxiously. 

VVasn t any splash except when I threw that 
ig atfish overboard,” said the skipper. “And 
the little girl didn’t scream. I guess she’s in- 
board rather than overboard—yes, ma’am!” 

The four young people separated and scoured 
the yacht, both on deck and below. At least, the 
girls looked through the cabin and the staterooms 
and the boys went into the tiny forecastle. They 
piet again in five minutes or so and stared wonder- 
ingly at each other. Little Henrietta had as ut¬ 
terly disappeared as though she had melted into 
mm air. 



“What can have happened to the poor little 
thing?” cried Amy, now almost in tears. 

“Of course, she must be on the boat if she 
hasn’t fallen overboard,” Jessie replied hesitat- 

“That is wisdom,” remarked Burd Ailing, 
dryly. "She hasn’t flown away, that’s sure.” 

The two mothers were on the afterdeck in com¬ 
fortable chairs; Jessie hated to disturb them, for 
Mrs. Norwood and Mrs. Drew had not heard 
the first outcry regarding Henrietta. Mr. Nor¬ 
wood and Mr. Drew were busy with their fishing- 
lines. Neither of the four adult passengers had 
seen the child. 

“I’ll be hanged, but that is the greatest kid I 
ever saw!” exclaimed Darry Drew with vigor. 
“She’s always in some mischief or" other. 

“I am so afraid she is in trouble,” confessed 
Jessie. “You know, we are responsible to her 
cousin Bertha Blair for her safety.” 

“If the kid wants to dive overboard, are we to 
be held responsible?” demanded Burd, somewhat 

“You hard-hearted boy!” exclaimed Amy. “Of 
course it is your fault if anything happens to 

“I told you, Drew, that you were making a big 
mistake to let this crowd of girls aboard the 
Marigold," complained the stocky youth, sighing 



deeply. “While this was strictly a bachelor 
barque we were all right.” 

Jessie, however, was really too much worried 
to enter into any repartee of this character. She 
ran off again to the cabin to have a second look 
for Henrietta. She found no trace of her except 
the doll she had brought aboard and the green 

She went back on deck. The fishermen were 
beginning to haul in weakfish and an occasional 
tautog, or blackfish. Amy, with a shout, hauled 
in Henrietta’s line and got inboard a fine flounder. 

“Anyway, we’ll have a big fish-fry for supper. 
The men will clean the fish and Darry and Burd 
will fry them. Your mother and mine, Jess, say 
that they have got through with the galley for 
the day.” 

“Oh!” ejaculated Jessie and, whirling suddenly 
around, started for the galley slide. 

“Where are you going?” cried Amy. “Do help 
me with this flopping fish. I can’t get the hook 

Her chum did not halt. She knew that nobody 
had thought to look into the cook’s galley that 
had been shut up after lunch. She forced back the 
slide and peered in. 

There on the deck of the little compartment, 
with her back against the wall, or bulkhead, was 
Henrietta. On one side was a jar of strawberry 



jam only half full. Much of the sticky sweet 
was smeared upon the cracker clutched in the 
child’s hand and upon her face and the front of 
her frock. Henrietta was asleep! 

“What is it?” demanded Amy, who had fol¬ 
lowed her more excited chum. “What’s happened 
to her?” 

“Look at that!” exclaimed Jessie, dramatically. 

Darry and Burd drew near. Amy burst into 
stifled laughter. 

“What do you know about that kid? She 
asked me if she could have a bite between meals 
and I told her of course she could. But I never 
thought she would take me so at my word.” Amy’s 
laughter was no longer stifled. 

“Fishing in the jam jar is more to Hen’s taste 
than fishing in the ocean,” observed Darry. 

“Nervy kid!” exclaimed Burd. “I’d like some 
of that jam myself.” 

“Bring him away,” commanded Jessie, pushing 
to the slide. “She might as well sleep. We will 
know where she is, anyway.” 

This little scare rather broke up the fishing for 
the Roselawn girls and the college boys. They 
went to the wireless room which had been built 
on deck behind the wheelhouse, and Darry put 
on the head harness and opened the key by which 
he took the messages he was able to obtain out 
of the air. 



The girls were particularly interested in this 
form of radio telegraphy at this time. Darry had 
bought and was establishing a regular radio tele¬ 
phone receiving set, too. He could give Jessie 
and Amy a deal of information about the Morse 
alphabet as used in the commercial wireless 

“Practice makes perfect,” he told them. “You 
can buy an ordinary key and sounder and practice 
until you can send fast. While you are learning 
that you automatically learn to read Morse. But 
I’ll have the radio set all right shortly and then 
we can get the station concerts.” 

“How near we’ll be to that station on the 
island I” Amy cried. “It ought to sound as though 
it were right in our ears.” 

“Not through your radiophone,” said her 
brother. “That station is a great brute of a com¬ 
mercial and signal station. It sends clear to the 
European shore. No concerts broadcasted from 
there. Now, let’s see If we can get some gossip 
out of the air.” 

The girls took turns listening in, even though 
they could not understand more than a letter or 
two of Morse. Darry translated for their benefit 
certain general messages he caught. They learned 
that operators on the trans-Atlantic liners and on 
the cargo boats often talked back and forth, 
swapping yarns, news, and personal information. 



Occasionally a navy operator “crashed in” with a 
few words. 

Calls came for vessels all up and down the 
North Atlantic. Information as to weather indi¬ 
cations were broadcasted from Arlington. The 
air seemed full of voices, each to be caught at a 
certain wave-length. 

“It is wonderful!” Jessie exclaimed. “ ‘Gossip 
out of the air’ is the right name for it. Just think 
of it, Amy! When we were born there was very 
little known about all this wonderful wireless.” 

“Sh!” commanded her chum. “Don’t remind 
folks how frightfully young we are.” 





T HE Marigold loafed along within sight 
of the beaches that evening and the girls 
and their friends reclined in the deck¬ 
chairs and watched the parti-colored electric 
lights that wreathed the shore-front. Jessie was 
careful to keep Henrietta near by. She began to 
realize that looking after the freckle-faced little 
girl was going to be something of a trial. 

Henrietta finally grew sleepy and Jessie and 
Amy took her below, helped her undress, and 
tucked her Into a berth. The Roselawn girls* 
mothers were much amused by this. Their daugh¬ 
ters had taken a task upon themselves that would, 
as Mrs. Norwood said, teach them something. 

“And it will not hurt them,” Mrs. Drew agreed, 
with an answering smile. “Amy, especially, needs 
to know what ‘duty’ means.” 

“Anyway, we’ll know where she is while she is 
asleep,” Jessie said to her chum, as they left the 
little girl. 

“If she isn’t a somnambulist,” chuckled Amy. 
“We forgot to ask Mrs. Foley or Bertha that.” 




The ground swell lulled the girls to sleep that 
night, and even Henrietta did not awake until 
the first breakfast call in the morning. Through 
the port-light Jessie and Amy saw Burd Ailing 
“bursting his cheeks with sound” as he essayed the 
changes on the key-bugle. 

The Marigold was slipping along the coast 
easily, with the northern end of Station Island 
already in sight. The castlelike hotel sprawled 
all over the headland, but the widest bathing 
beach was just below it. Next were the premises 
of the Hackle Island Gold Club, with its pastures, 
shrubberies, and several water-holes. It was to a 
part of these enclosed premises that Mr. Nor¬ 
wood said little Henrietta Haney was laying 

“And I believe she will get it in time. Most 
of the land on which those summer houses beyond 
the golf course stand is also within the lines of the 
Padriac Haney place.” 

He explained this to them while they all paced 
the deck after breakfast. The yacht was headed 
in toward the dock near the bungalows, some of 
which were very cheaply built and stood upon 
stilts near the shore. 

The tall gray staff of the abandoned lighthouse 
was the landmark at the extreme southern end 
of the island. The sending and receiving station 
of the commercial wireless company was at the 



lighthouse, and the party aboard the Marigold 
could see the very tall antenna connected there¬ 

The yacht landed the party and their baggage 
about ten o’clock. Mrs. Norwood’s servants 
were at hand to help, and a decrepit express 
wagon belonging to a “native” aided in the trans¬ 
portation of the goods to the big bungalow which 
was some rods back from the shore. There were 
no automobiles on the island. 

“Is this my house?” Henrietta demanded the 
moment she learned which dwelling the party of 
vacationists would occupy. 

“It may prove to be your house in the end,” 
Jessie told her. 

“When’s the end?” was the blunt query. “How 
long do I have to wait?” 

“We can’t tell that. My mother has the house 
for the summer. She has hired It for us all to 
live in.” 

“Who does she pay? Do I get any of the 
money?” continued the little girl. “If this island 
is going to be mine some time, why not now? Why 
wait for something that is mine?” 

It was very difficult for Jessie and Amy to make 
her understand the situation. In fact, she began 
to feel and express doubts about the attempt that 
was being made to discover and settle the legal 
phases of the Padriac Haney estate. 



“If I don’t get my money and my island pretty 
soon somebody else will get it instead, was the 
little girl’s confident statement. 

“Oh, Jess!” exclaimed Amy under her breath, 
“suppose that should be so. You know Belle Rin- 
gold’s father is trying to prove his title to the 
same property.” 

“Hush!” said Jessie. “Don’t let little Hen 
hear about that. She is getting hard to manage 
as it is. Henrietta! Where are you going now ?’ ’ 
she called after the little girl. 

“I’m going out to take a look at some of my 
island,” declared the child, as she banged the 
screen door. 

“She’s sure to get into trouble,” Jessie observed, 

“Oh, let her go,” Amy declared. “Why worry ? 
You can’t watch her every minute we are here. 
She can’t very well fall overboard from this 

• “I don’t know. She manages to do the most 
unexpected things,” said Jessie. 

But there was so much to do in helping settle 
things and make the sparcely furnished bungalow 
comfortable that Jessie did not think for a while 
about Henrietta. Besides, she was desirous, of 
setting up the radio instruments at once and string¬ 
ing the antenna. 

Darry and Burd helped the girls do this last. 



They worked hard, for they had first of all to 
plant in the sands some distance from the house 
an old mast that Mr. Norwood bought so as to 
erect the wires at least thirty feet above the 

The antenna were not completed at nightfall. 
Then, of a sudden, everybody began to wonder 
about Henrietta. Where was she? It was re¬ 
membered that she had not been seen during most 
of the afternoon. 

“Oh, dear!” worried Jessie. “It is my fault. 
I should not have let her go out alone that time, 

“She said she wanted to see her island, I re¬ 
member,” admitted her chum, with some gravity. 
“And this island is a pretty big place, and it is 
growing dark.” 

“She could not get into any trouble if she 
stayed on Hackle Island,” declared Darry. “What 
a kid!” 

“And she certainly couldn’t have got off it,” 
suggested Burd. 

“We must look around for her,” said Jessie, 
with conviction. “Don’t tell Momsy. She will 
worry. She thinks I have had my eye on the child 
all the time.” 

“You certainly would have what they call a 
roving eye if you managed to keep it on Henri- 



etta,” giggled Burd Ailing. “She darts about like 
a swallow.” 

Jessie felt it to be no joking matter. The four 
young people separated and went in different di¬ 
rections to hunt for the missing child. Station, 
or Hackle, Island at this end was mostly sand 
dunes or open flats. A little sparce grass grew in 
bunches, and there were clumps of beach plum 
bushes. Towards the golf course the land was 
higher and there real lawn and trees of some 
size were growing. 

The low sand dunes stretched in gray windrows 
right across the island. Jessie tried to think what 
might have first attracted Henrietta at this end 
of the island. She did not believe that she would 
go far from the bungalow, although Amy wanted 
to start at once for the hotel. That was the ob¬ 
ject that attracted her first of all. 

Jessie ran toward the far side of the island. It 
was growing dark and everything on both sea and 
shore looked gray and misty. The seabirds swept 
overhead and whistled mournfully. Jessie shouted 
Henrietta’s name as she ran. 

But she began to labor up and down the sand 
dunes with difficulty. It frightened Jessie Nor¬ 
wood very much whenever Henrietta got into mis¬ 
chief or into danger. No knowing what harm 
might come to her on this lonely part of Station 



Nor was this fear in Jessie’s mind bred entirely 
by the feeling that it was her duty to look out for 
Henrietta. The child was an appealing little crea¬ 
ture, though she had had little chance in the world 
thus far to develop her better and worthier qual¬ 
ities. The pity that Jessie Norwood had felt for 
the untamed girl at first was now blossoming into 

“What would I ever say to Bertha and Mrs. 
Foley if anything happened to the child!” Jessie 



J ESSIE was beginning to learn that to guard 
the welfare of a lively youngster like Henri¬ 
etta was no small task. The worst of it was, 
she was so fond of the little girl that she worried 
about her much of the time. And Henrietta 
seemed to have a penchant for getting into trouble. 

Jessie called, and she called again and again, 
as she ploughed through the sand, and heard in 
reply only the shrieks of the gulls and peewees. 
Gray clouds had rolled up from the Western hori¬ 
zon and covered completely the glow of sunset. 
It was going to be a drab evening, and all the 
hollows were already filled with shadow. 

Jessie tolled up the slope of one sand-hill after 
another, calling and listening, calling and listening, 
but all to no avail. What could have become of 
Henrietta Haney? 

Suddenly Jessie fairly tumbled into an excava¬ 
tion in the sand. Although she could not see the 
place, her hands told her that the hole was deep 
and the sand somewhat moist. The hole had been 
dug recently, for the surface of the dunes was 
still warm from the rays of the sun. 

s 4 



She stumbled down the slope of the sand dune 
and found another hole, then another. Dark as 
it was in the hollow, when she kicked something 
that rattled, she knew what it was. 

“Henrietta’s pail and shovel 1” Jessie exclaimed 
aloud. “She has been here.” 

She picked up the articles. Before leaving New 
Melford she had herself bought the pail and 
shovel for the freckle-faced little girl. 

Where had the child gone from here? Already 
Jessie was some distance from the group of bunga¬ 
lows. As Henrietta insisted upon believing that 
most of the island belonged to her “by good 
rights,” there was no telling what part of it she 
might have aimed for after playing in the sand. 

Jessie shouted again, her voice wailing over the 
sands almost as mournfully as the cries of the 
sea-fowl. Again and again she shouted, but with¬ 
out hearing a human sound in reply. She labored 
on, and it grew so dark that she began to wish 
one of the others had come with her. Even Amy’s 
presence would have been a comfort. 

She came to the brink of a yawning sand-pit, 
the bottom of which was so dark she could not 
see it. She began skirting this hollow, crying out 
as she went, and almost in tears. 

Suddenly Darry’s voice answered her. She 
was fond of Darry—thought him a most wonder- 



ful fellow, in fact. But there was just one thing 
Jessie wanted of him now. 

“Have you seen her?” she cried. 

“Not a bit. I have been away down to the 
lighthouse. Nobody has seen her there.” 

“Oh! Who you lookin' for?” suddenly asked 
a voice out of the darkness. 

“Henrietta!” shrieked Jessie, and plunged 
down into the dark sand-pit. 

“Who's lost?” asked the little girl again. 
“Ow-ow! I—I guess I been asleep, Miss Jessie.” 

“Has that kid shown up at last?” grumbled 
Darry, climbing to the sand ridge. 

“Is it night?” demanded Henrietta, as Jessie 
clasped her with an energy that betrayed her re¬ 
lief. “Why, it wasn't dark when I came down 

“How did you get down there?” demanded 
Darry from above. 

“I rolled down. I guess I was tired. I dug 
so much sand-” 

“Did you dig all those holes I found, Henri¬ 
etta?” demanded the relieved Jessie. 

“Why, no, Miss Jessie. I didn’t dig holes. I 
dug sand and let the holes be,” declared the 
freckle-faced little girl scornfully. 

Darry sat down and laughed, but while he 
laughed Jessie toiled up the yielding sand hill with 
her hand clasping Henrietta's. “Ow-ow!” yawned 



the child again. “When do we eat, Miss Jessie? 
Or is eating all over?” 

“Listen to the kid I” ejaculated Darry. “Here! 
Give her to me. HI carry her. Want to go 
pickaback, Hen?” 

“Well, it’s dark and nobody can see us. I 
don’t mind,” said Henrietta soberly. “But I 
guess I’m too big to be lugged around that way 
in common. ’Specially now that I own this island 
—or, most of it—and am going to have money of 
my own.” 

“She’s harping on that idea too much,” ob¬ 
served Darry to Jessie, in a low tone. 

The latter thought so too. Funny as little 
Henrietta was, the stressing of Her expected for¬ 
tune was going to do her no good. Jessie began 
to see that this fault had to be corrected. 

“Goodness 1” she thought, stumbling along after 
the young collegian and his burden, “I might as 
well have a younger sister to take care of. Chil¬ 
dren, as Mrs. Foley says, are a sight of trouble.” 

They heard Amy and Burd shouting back of 
the bungalow, and they responded to their cries. 

“Did you find that young Indian?” cried Burd. 

“You’ve hit it. This little squaw should be 
named ‘Plenty Trouble’ rather than ‘Spotted 
Snake, the Witch.’ ” 

“Why,” said Henrietta, sleepily, “I never have 
any trouble—of course I don’t.” 



It was about as Jessie said, however: They 
were never confident that the freckled little girl 
was all right save when she was asleep. She had 
bread and milk and went right to bed when they 
got home with her. Then the evening was a busy 
one for the quartette of older young folks. 

The radio set was put into place in the library 
of the bungalow. They had brought the two-step 
amplifier and proposed to use that for most of 
their listening in, rather than the headphones. 
Although Darry and Burd helped in this prelim¬ 
inary work, the girls really knew more about the 
adjustment of the various parts than the college 

But in the morning Darry and Burd strung the 
wires and completed the antenna. The house con¬ 
nection was made and the ground connection. By 
noon all was complete and after lunch Jessie 
opened the switch and they got the wave-length 
of a New York broadcasting station and heard a 
brief concert and a lecture on advertising methods 
that did not, in truth, greatly interest the girls. 

After that they tuned in and caught the Strat- 
fordtown broadcasting. They recognized Mr. 
Blair’s voice announcing the numbers of the after¬ 
noon concert program. 

But radio did not hold the attention of these 
young people all the time, although they had all 
become enthusiasts. They were at the seashore, 



and there were a hundred things to do that they 
could not do at home in Roselawn. The sands 
were smooth, the surf rolled in while ruffles, and 
the cool green and blue of the sea was most attrac¬ 
tive. One of the safest bathing beaches bordering 
Station Island was directly in front of the bunga¬ 
low colony. 

At four o’clock they were all in their bathing 
suits and joined the company already in the surf 
or along the sands. In any summer colony ac¬ 
quaintanceships are formed rapidly. Jessie and 
Amy had already seen some girls of about their 
own age whom they liked the looks of, and they 
were glad to see them again at the bathing hour. 

“Is it a perfectly safe beach?” Mrs. Norwood 
asked, and was assured by her husband that so it 
was rated. There were no strong currents or 
undertows along this shore. And, in any case, 
there was a lifeguard in a boat j'ust off shore and 
another patrolling the sands. 

“I ain’t afraid!” proclaimed Henrietta, dashing 
into the water immediately. “Come on, Miss 
Jessie! Come on, Miss Amy, you won’t get 
drowned at my island.” 

“What a funny little thing she is,” said one of 
the friendly girls who overheard Henrietta. 
“Does she think she owns Station Island?” 

“That is exactly what she does think,” said 
Amy, grimly. 



“I never!” drawled the girl. “And there is a 
girl up at the hotel who talks the same way. At 
least, when she was down here yesterday she said 
her father owns all this part of Station Island 
and is going to have the bungalows torn down.” 

Jessie and Amy looked at each other with under¬ 

“I guess I know who that girl is,” said Amy 
quickly. “It’s Belle Ringold.” 

“Yes. Her name is Ringold,” said their new 
acquaintance. “Do you suppose it is so—that her 
father can drive us all out of the cottages ? 1 ou 
know) we have already paid rent for the season.” 



A MY DREW scoffed at the thought of Belle 
Ringold’s tale of trouble for the “bunga- 
lowites” being true. 

“She is always hatching up something un¬ 
pleasant,” she told the neighbor who had spoken 
of Mr. Ringold’s claim to a part of Station Island. 
“We know her. She comes from our town.” 

But little Henrietta continued to tell anybody 
who would listen that she owned a part of the 
island and expected to take possession of the golf 
links almost any day. The funny little thing, how¬ 
ever, was very generous in inviting people to re¬ 
main on “her island,” no matter what happened. 

“Something has got to be done about that 
child,” said Jessie, sighing. “I can’t control her. 
She does say the most awful things. She has no 
manners at all!” 

“He, he,” chuckled Amy. “Hen was built with¬ 
out any controller. I wouldn’t worry about her, 
Jess. She’ll come out all right.” 

“I hope she comes out of the water all right,” 
murmured her chum, starting again after the very 




lively little girl who occasionally made dashes for 
the surf as though she proposed to go right out to 

But for one person Henrietta had some concern. 
That was Mrs. Norwood. She thought Jessie’s 
mother was a most wonderful person. And when 
Mrs. Norwood had a chair and umbrella brought 
to the sands and sat down within sight of Henri¬ 
etta, the older girls had some opportunity of hav¬ 
ing a little amusement with the college boys. 

“Come on,” Darry Drew said. “This staying 
inshore is no fun. Beat you to the raft, girls, 
and give you ten yards start.” 

“O-oh! You can’t!” cried his sister, dashing 
at once for the sea. 

“Hold on! Hold on!” commanded Darry. “I 
don’t believe you even know how long ten yards 
is. Both you girls go in and stand even with that 
pile yonder. You are headed for the raft. You 
see the life saver beyond it, I hope?” 

Amy made a face at him, settled her bathing 
cap more firmly, and looked at Jessie. 

“Ready, Jess?” she asked. 

“We’ll just beat them good,” declared her 
chum. “They always think they can do things so 
much better than us girls.” 

“ ‘We’ girls,” corrected Amy, giggling. 

“ ‘We’ or ‘us’—it doesn’t so much matter, as 
long as we win the race,” said Jessie. 



“All ready out there?” demanded Darry. 

“They’re edging out farther,” observed Burd 
Ailing. “It wouldn’t matter if you gave them a 
mile start; they’d take more if they could. Give 
’em an inch and they’ll take an ell,” he quoted. 

“You don’t know what an ell is,” scoffed his 

“It’s something you put on a house after you 
think you’ve got all the rooms you’ll ever need. 
I know,” declared Burd, grinning. 

“Come on out!” retorted Darry. “Cut the 
repartee. You have got to swim your little best, 
for those two girls are no slow-pokes.” 

“You’ve said something,” agreed Burd. “Shoot!. 
I am ready, Gridley.” 

“Huh!” exclaimed his chum. “You have even 
forgotten your Spanish War history.” 

“Shucks! They change history so fast now 
you don’t more than learn one phase than you have 
to forget it and learn some other fellow’s ‘hind¬ 
sight’ of important events. The only way to get 
history straight,” declared the philosophical Burd, 
“is to be Johnny-on-the-spot and see things hap¬ 

“Now 1” shouted Darry to the girls. 

The four splashed in, the girls starting with a 
breast stroke and the boys having to run for some 
distance until the sea was deep enough to enable 
them to swim.’ The water beyond the ruffle of 



surf was almost calm. At least, the waves did not 
break, but heaved in, in smooth rollers. As Amy 
had said: The sea was taking deep-breathing 

Just now, however, she was not making jokes. 
The two girls were doing their best to win the 
race. Darry was a long, rangy fellow, and his 
over-hand stroke was wonderful. Burd Ailing— 
“tubby” as he was—was an excellent swimmer. 
The girls started with a dash, however, and they 
kept up their speed for some rods before either 
felt any fatigue. 

The diving raft was a long distance out from 
the beach, because the sandy bottom here sloped 
very gradually. This part of the island was ideal 
for swimming and bathing. If it was finally 
proved that the old Padriac Haney estate be¬ 
longed to little Henrietta, she would control the 
longest strip of beach on the island. 

Amy flashed a glance over her shoulder to see 
how close they were pursued, and almost lost 

“Come on I” panted Jessie. “Don’t let them 
beat you.” 

“Ain’t—go-ing—to,” gasped her chum, in four 
short breaths. 

They were more than half way to the raft, and 
it really seemed as though the stronger—and 
longer—arms of the two college boys were not 



aiding them to overtake the Roselawn girls. The 
latter began to congratulate each other upon this 
—with glances. They did not waste any more 
breath in speech. 

Rising high to change stroke, Jessie turned on 
her side and did the over-hand. It heaved her 
ahead of her chum for a yard or so; and it like¬ 
wise enabled her to see over the raft. The raft 
chanced to be deserted, nor were there any swim¬ 
mers between her and the boat of the lifeguard 
beyond the raft. 

The man in the boat suddenly stood up. He 
began waving his arms and shouting. As he was 
looking shoreward Jessie thought he must be 
cheering her and her chum on. She forged still 
farther ahead of Amy, and the lifeguard became 
more energetic in his motions. 

Suddenly he dropped upon the seat of his boat, 
grabbed the oars, and pulled the bow of the craft 
around, heading it seemed, for the raft. He did 
act peculiarly. 

From behind her Jessie heard faintly a cry 
from her chum: 

“Oh, Jess! What’s that? What is it?” 

“Why, it is the lifeguard,” rejoined Jessie 
Norwood, flashing another glance over her 
shoulder, but continuing to thrash forward at her 
very best speed. 

“No, no! That thing! In the water!” At 



first Jessie saw nothing ahead but the raft. She 
thought the lifeguard was hurrying to the raft 
to meet Amy and herself if they won the race. 
Another glance that she flashed back swept the 
smooth, rolling sea as far as Darry and Burd, 
endeavoring to overcome the handicap they had 
given the two girl chums. 

It was only then that Jessie realized that some¬ 
thing must be happening—some threatening thing 
that she did not understand. From the rear 
Harry’s hail reached Jessie’s ear: 

“Turn back! Come back, Jess!” 

“Why! what does he think?” considered Jessie, 
amazed. “That I am going to stop and let him 
and Burd beat us? I—guess—not!” 

Then she heard the voice of the lifeguard. He 
was driving his boat inshore with mighty strokes; 
but he sat facing shoreward, too, using his oars 
back-handed. He shouted: 

“Shark! Shark! Look out for the shark!” 

And behind Jessie Norwood her chum took up 
the cry: 

‘Shark! Oh, Jess! Shark!” 

The word, which had never meant much to Jes¬ 
sie Norwood in her life before, being merely the 
name of a quite unknown fish, suddenly became 
the most important of words! She whirled over 
and took up the breast stroke. She rose high in 
the water again to look. 



Off at one side and seemingly swimming toward 
them from a tangent, came a gray, sail-like thing, 
the like of which the Roselawn girl had never 
seen before. She accepted as true however the 
identification of the lifeguard. He should know. 

The race to the raft became suddenly a double 
race. More than ever did Jessie Norwood wish 
to win it! She desired to outswim the dangerous 
fish of which she had heard such terrible stories. 



J ESSIE was badly frightened, but she was not 
too scared to swim as hard as she could for 
the diving raft. The lifeguard drove his 
boat around the end of the raft toward the gray, 
sail-like object which had so startled them all. 
Jessie remembered of reading that the dorsal fin 
of a shark shows above water when it swims at 
the surface. This odd looking thing must be it— 
it must be! 

She measured the distance between it and her¬ 
self with some calculation. It came on in a halt¬ 
ing, undecided way. Perhaps the shark had not 
yet caught sight of any of the swimmers. Jessie 
flung up her arm and shouted at the top of her 
voice to her chum: 

“Come onl Come on! Don’t let him get 

Amy was struggling so hard to reach the raft 
now that she had no breath left for speech. Jessie 
saw her splashing on in her wake. Behind, the 
boys were making a great splashing too, and Jessie 
realized that it was for an object. The shark 





might be frightened away if they made disturbance 
enough in the water. 

Jessie was now very near the raft and the other 
three were bunching up not far behind her. The 
lifeguard shot by in his boat, yelling like mad. 
Darry shouted: 

“Get aboard the raft, girls! Burd and I will 
beat him off till you are landed I” 

“You come right on here, Darrington Drew!” 
sputtered his sister. “What good will you ever 
be if you get your leg bit oft?” 

Jessie reached the raft and seized a loop of 
rope hanging from it. If it had not been for this 
assistance she doubted if she could have hauled 
herself out of the water. When Amy arrived, 
her chum was lying over the edge of the refuge, 
and reached one arm out for her. 

“Quick! Quick!” cried Jessie. 

“Do—don’t scare me so 1” gasped Amy. “I— 
I feel just as though he was nibbling at my toes 
right now I” 

But it seemed no laughing matter to Jessie Nor¬ 
wood. Her chum, however, would find a joke in 
even the most serious circumstance. And the 
moment she lay on the raft beside Jessie she be¬ 
gan to laugh, gaspingly. 

“This is no laughing matter!” Jessie declared. 
“How can you, Amy? Darry and Burd-” 

At that instant a wild shout rose from the two 



collegians and from the lifeguard who had rowed 
so energetically to their rescue. Amy broke off 
suddenly in her nervous laughter. 

“He’s got ’em!” she shrieked. “Oh! Oh!” 

But, strange though it seemed to her, Jessie 
realized that Darry and Burd were laughing. And 
the astonished expletives that the guard emitted 
did not seem to show fear. 

“What is the matter?” Jessie demanded, stand¬ 
ing up. 

“And where is the shark?” asked Amy, likewise 
scrambling to her feet. 

The boys were hanging to the side of the 
guard’s boat. He was fishing for something in 
the water with an oar. He finally got the object 
and raised it aloft. 

“What is it?” repeated Jessie. 

“The shark!” shrieked her chum. 

It actually was all the shark there was—a pair 
of partly deflated swimming wings which, carried 
here and there by the wind, had looked like a 
shark’s dorsal fin at a distance. 

“Good thing you girls saw it,” declared Darry, 
when the boys lumbered along to the raft. “If 
you hadn’t been so scared you never would have 
beat us. Would they, Burd?” 

“Of course not,” agreed his friend. “And how 
Jess can swim—when there is a man-eating shark 
after her I” 



“Don’t make fun,” Jessie said, somewhat ex¬ 
asperated. “It might have been a shark. Then 
where would you have been?” 

“Either here or inside the shark,” said Darry. 
“One thing sure, he never could have caught you 

“Well,” Amy sighed, “we had all the excite¬ 
ment of racing with a shark, even if the shark 
was only in our minds. I’ll never be so scared by 
one again.” 

“Goodness!” exclaimed Jessie. “I know I shall 
always be nervous in the water here after this. 
I’ll always be looking for one. What an awful 
feeling it is to try to swim when one is being 
pursued by-” 

“By a pair of swimming wings,” chuckled 
Burd. “Some imagination you’ve got, my dear 

There was a serious side to the matter, how¬ 
ever. Although the shark scare had proved to be 
groundless, the quartette decided to say nothing 
about it to those ashore. 

“Especially to Momsy,” Jessie Norwood said. 
“I don’t want to make her nervous. Little things 
annoy her.” 

“She’ll be some annoyed by little Hen, then,” 
chuckled Amy. “Hen is worse than any shark 
you ever saw.” 



‘‘How terrible!” cried Jessie. “She is not a 
bad child at all, but she is wild enough.” 

. When they swam ashore later they found Hen¬ 
rietta on her good behavior with Momsy. No¬ 
body on the sands had chanced to see the excite¬ 
ment out by the raft. Or, if they had, it was 
merely supposed that the four young people from 
Koselawn were playing in the water. 

Jessie, however, felt rather serious about it. 
And she knew she would never go into the sea 

again at Station Island without thinking about 

While they were playing hand-ball on the beach, 
still in their bathing suits, a low-wheeled pony 
carriage came along the drive from the upper end 
Qt * . and Amy’s sharp eyes spied and 

recognized the two girls seated on the back seat 
of the vehicle. 

“And that’s Bill Brewster driving!” cried Amy. 
Some difference between the speed of that quad¬ 
ruped and his sports car.” 

“One thing sure,” chuckled Burd. “He can’t 
do so much damage with that old Dobbin as he 
did with the car he drives about New Melford ” 
“Belle and Sally have got a hen on,” said the 

s angy Amy to Jessie. “See them whispering to¬ 
gether?” & 

“I can see what they are up to from right where 
1 stand, announced Darry, dropping the ball. 

more than one adventure 


“Come on, Burd! Let’s beat it for the raft again. 
That’s one place those two girls can’t follow us 
without bathing suits.” 

“He, he I” giggled his sister. “I hope they sit 
right down here and wait for you to come ashore.” 

“Send out our supper by the lifeguard,” called 
Burd, as he followed his chum into the surf. “We 
fear sharks less than we do a certain brand of 
featherless biped.” 

“I suppose it would be too pointed for us to 
run away,” said Amy to Jessie, as Bill Brewster 
drove the pony carriage out on to the beach. 

“Belle has got her eye on us, that is a fact,” 
agreed Jessie. 

She was curious, especially after what their 
new friend had told them an hour before about the 
story that Belle Ringold was circulating. Belle 
was eager to talk—as she always was. 

“So your folks got one of these bungalows, did 
they, after all, Jess Norwood?” she began. “I 
suppose you know there is no surety that you can 
keep it a month?” 

“I don’t know about that. I guess father at¬ 
tended to the lease. And he is a lawyer, you 
know,” said Jessie, quietly. 

“Pooh! Yes,” said Belle, tossing her head. 
“But there are lawyers and lawyers! My father 
has the smartest lawyer in New York working 



for him. And I suppose you know about the claim 
he^has against all the middle of this island?” 

We have heard that you have a claim on the 
island—or think you have,” said Amy slyly. “But, 

then, Belle, you always did think you owned the 

“Now, Miss Smartie, don’t be too funny! 
Father is going to prove his right to the golf 

course and all these bungalows. Don’t you fear _ 

Why! There’s that terrible Henrietta Haney! 
How did she come here?” 

“She is with us,” said Jessie shortly. 

“Oh, indeed! One of your week-end guests, 

I suppose?” scoffed Belle. “We are entertaining 
General O’Bigger and Mrs. O’Bigger at the hotel. 
Of course, we would not live in one of these small 
bungalows—not even if we needed a vacation.” 

1 ou wouldn’t,” said Henrietta promptly, “be¬ 
cause I wouldn’t let you.” 

“Oh! Oh! Hear that child!” cried Sally Moon. 

Nor you, neither,” declared Henrietta. “All 
them houses are mine—or they are going to be.” 

“Hush, Henrietta,” commanded Jessie, in a low 

Didn t the funny little thing say something 
before about owning an island ?”asked Belle, 
somewhat puzzled. 

And this is it,” said Henrietta. “You just 
try to come into any of them bungleloos! I’d get 

more than one adventure 


a policeman and have him take you out. So 



“Will you behave ?” said Jessie, feeling like 
shaking the child, and in reality leading her away. 

Amy came running after them in the midst of 
Jessie’s berating of the freckle-faced girl. 

“Did you ever hear such nonsense?” Jessie’s 
chum demanded. “Belle declares the case is com¬ 
ing up in court next week and that her father is 
going to win. Did you ever?” 

Mr. Norwood was sitting with his wife when 
they came near to that lady’s beach chair. Jessie 
was anxious enough to ask about Belle’s statement 
regarding the imminent court investigation of the 
controversy over Station Island. 

“Why, yes, Ringold’s lawyers claim they have 
found new evidence entitling him to be heard as 
a claimant to the Padriac Haney estate,” the 
lawyer acknowledged. “But there may not be any¬ 
thing in it.” 

“But is there a possibility, Robert?” Momsy 
asked, seeing how anxious both Jessie and the little 
girl looked. 

“There is nothing sure in any case that comes 
into court,” declared her husband. “Besides, 
those attorneys of Ringold’s are sharp fellows. 
He may make his claim good.” 

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” burst out Henrietta. 

And then I won’t have nuthin’? No island, nor 

IQ 6 more than one adventure 

g °!L llnk ’ nor ~ nor nuthin’? Oh, dear me!” 

ever mind, honey,” Jessie begged. “You 
have friends. You have me” And she sat down 

on the sands and took the freckle-faced little eirl 
in her arms. ^ 

“Ye-es, Miss Jessie. I know I got you,” sobbed 
Henrietta. But—but you ain’t a golf link, nor 

f,° U . a ' n 1 a . 1 J Un ? lel00 - -And and I want to turn 
that Ringold girl off my island, I do I” I 



T HE Stanleys arrived at Station Island the 
next day, the doctor having arranged for a 
substitute preacher at the Roselawn 
Church for two Sundays. The bungalow they had 
arranged to occupy was one of the colony not far 
from the big house the Norwoods and their party 
were staying in. 

Darry and Burd began to spend a good deal of 
their time on the yacht after that first day. Amy 
accused her brother of being afraid of a flank at¬ 
tack by Belle Ringold and Sally Moon, and he 
admitted that he had hoped to escape those two 
troublesome kids” when he came to the island. 
a I came here as the guest of little Hen Haney,” 
he declared soberly. “And I don’t wish to be 
annoyed by any girls older than she is.” 

But he did not say this within Henrietta’s hear¬ 
ts* The little girl went around with a very long 
face indeed. She seemed to think that she was 
going to lose her island. Even Nell Stanley, who 
^ as a general comforter at most times, could not 
a Ieviate little Henrietta’s woe. 

With the coming of the Stanleys, however, 




Henrietta became less of a trial to Jessie. For 
Sally Stanley was just about Henrietta’s age and 
the two children got along splendidly together. 

Bob and Fred, those lively and ingenious 
youngsters, made their own friends among the 
boys of the bungalow colony. The three girls 
from Roselawn—Jessie, Amy, and Nell—found 
plenty to do and enjoyed themselves thoroughly 
during the next few days. Being all interested in 
radio they naturally spent sometime at Jessie’s 
set. But unfortunately it did not work as well 
here as it had at home. 

“T < i And 1 d ° n0t knOW why ” J essie ruminated. 

I have been studying up about it and the more 

I read the less I seem to know. There are so many 
different opinions about how an amateur set should 
be built. Do you know, sometimes I feel as though 
I should have an entirely different kind of outfit. 

here is a new super-regenerative circuit that is 
being talked about.” 

“But some people say it is not practicable for 
amateurs,” broke in Nell. “I’ve read so, any- 

I should like to talk with some professional—■ 
some radio expert—about that,” Jessie confessed. 

If I had thought before we left home I would 
have spoken to Mr. Blair.” 

You’ll have to wait until you get back, then,” 
said Amy promptly. 



“Why?” cried Nell suddenly. “There must be 
experts over at that Government station.” 

“That is so,” agreed Jessie, thoughtfully. “Do 
you suppose they would-” 

“Let’s go and see,” urged Nell. “I’m crazy to 
see the inside of that station, anyway.” 

“It’s wireless—like the little outfit aboard the 
Marigold,” Amy suggested. 

“But so much bigger,” Jessie chimed in eagerly. 
“If they admit visitors, let’s go.” 

Mr. Norwood found out about that particular 
point for the girls and reported that if they went 
over to the station in the late afternoon the oper¬ 
ator on duty would be glad to show them “the 
works” and give them all the information in his 

The three friends went alone, for the collegians 
were off fishing that day on the Marigold. They 
left the little girls in Mrs. Norwood’s care and 
slipped away about four o’clock and walked to the 
station, which was some distance from the bunga¬ 
low colony. They had to climb the stairs in the 
old shaft of the lighthouse to the wireless room. 
The room was half darkened and they heard the 
snapping of the spark, and even saw the faint blue 
flash of it when they came to the door. 

The operator, with his head harness on, was 
busy at his set. Jessie, at least, had spent some 
time trying to learn the Morse code since talking 




the matter over with Darry on the yacht. But 
although the signals the operator received were 
in dots and dashes, she could not understand a 
single thing. 

I am afraid it will take us a long time to 
learn,” she said to Amy, sighing. “We shall have 
to buy a regular telegraph set and learn in that 

“I wish you wouldn’t talk about learning any. 
thing!” cried her chum. “Vacation is slipping 
right away from us.” 

After a few moments the spark stopped snap¬ 
ping, the operator closed his switch amd removed 
his harness. He wheeled around on the bench and 
welcomed them. He was really a very pleasant 
young man, and he explained many things about 
bocn tne radio-telegraph and radio-telephone that 
the girls had not known before. 

_ was so friendly that Jessie ventured to ask 
him about the new super-regenerative circuit in 
which she was interested. 

Yes. I m strong for that new thing,” said the 
wifeless operator, enthusiastically. “In the first 
place, it was invented by the man who originated 
the ordinary regenerative circuit so much in use 
at present, and also of the super-heterodyne cir¬ 
cuit. I understand this new circuit permits a cur¬ 
rent amplification up to a million times, and all 
with three tubes. You know, to reach such a high 



mark with your ordinary regenerative circuit, 
many more tubes would be necessary.” 

“I understand that,” said Jessie. But can an 
amateur build and practically work this new cir- 

“Why not? If you follow directions carefully. 
And with the new outfit a loop is just as effective 
an antenna as an outside aerial. They say, too, 
that to catch broadcasting for not more than 
twenty-five miles, not even a loop is needed, the 
circuits themselves acting as the absorbers of 


“I’m going to try it,” declared Jessie, with more 
confidence. “But I feel that I understand so little 
about the various forms of radio, after all.” 

“You have nothing on me there,” laughed the 
operator. “I am learning something new all the 
time. And sometimes I am astonished to find out 
how, after five years of work with it, I am really 
so ignorant.” 

The girls had a very interesting visit at the 
station; and from the operator Jessie and Amy 
gained some particular instruction about sending 
and receiving messages in the telegraph code. He 
received several messages from ships at sea while 
the girls remained in the station, and likewise re¬ 
layed other messages received from inland stations 
both up and down the coast and to vessels far out 



It is a wonderful thing,” said Nell, as the girl, 
walked homeward. “I never realized before how 
great an influence wireless already was in commer- 
cial life. Why, how did the world ever get along 
without it before Marconi first thought of it?” 

“How did the world ever get along without 
any other great invention?” demanded Amy. 
“The sewing machine, for instance. I’ve got to 
run up a seam in one of my sports skirts, for there 
is no tailor, they say, nearer than the hotel. I do 
wish a sewing machine had been included in the 
furnishings of your bungalow, Jess. I hate to sew 
by hand.” 

The boys had come in before the Roselawn girls 
reutrned roi dinner, and they were very enthusi¬ 
astic over a plan for taking a part of the bungalow 
crowd on an extended sailing trip. They had met 
Dr. Stanley walking the beaches, and he had ex¬ 
pressed a desire to go to sea for a day or two, and 
at once Darry and Burd had conceived a plan for 
the young folks to be included. 

1 he doctor is a good enough chaperon,” said 
Darry, with a laugh. “Nell shall come. Her 
Aunt Freda will be down to look after the 

^ And Henrietta?” asked Jessie, hesitatingly- 

I H or pity’s sake!” cried Darry, in some impa- 
tjence. “Don’t be tied down to that kid all the 
time. You’d think you were a grandmother.” 



“Well, I like that!” exclaimed Jessie. “I’m not 
sure that I want to go on your old yacht, Darry 

“Aw, Jess-” 

“Well, I’ll think about it,” murmured Jessie, 



D ARRY and Burd seemed to have little time 
to spend ashore these days. They said 
that they had a lot to do to fix up the 
Marigold for the proposed trip seaward. But 
Amy accused them of being afraid of Belle Rin- 
gold and Sally Moon. 

“Belle is determined that she shall get an invita¬ 
tion to sail aboard your yacht, Darry,” teased his 
sister. “Don’t forget that.” 

“Not if we see her first,” responded Burd, 
promptly. “And don’t you ring her in on us, for 
if you do we’ll not let you aboard the Marigold 
either. How about it, Darry?” 

“Good enough,” agreed Amy’s brother. 

“Oh, I promise not to ring Belle Ringold in on 
you,” giggled Amy. 

“It is perfectly disgraceful how you boys teach 
these girls slang,” Mrs. Drew remarked with a 
sigh. . 

“Why, Mother!” cried Darry, his eyes twink¬ 
ling, “they teach it to us. You accuse Burd an 
me wrongfully. We couldn’t tell these girl s a 
single thing.” 


This was at breakfast at the Norwood bunga¬ 
low. After breakfast the young folks separated. 
But Jessie and Amy had no complaint to make 
about the boys. They had their own interests. 
This day they had agreed to explore the island 
with Nell Stanley as far as the hotel grounds. 

They took Henrietta and Sally Stanley along, 
and carried a picnic lunch. The older girls were 
rather curious to see the extent of “Henrietta’s 
domain,” as Amy called it. The pastures included 
in the Hackle Island Golf Club grounds covered 
all the middle of the island, and consisted of hills 
and dells, all “up-and-down-dilly,” Amy observed, 
and from a distance, at least, seemed very at¬ 

Of course, they could not go fast with the two 
smaller girls along, although Henrietta seemed 


“But Sally ain’t a tough one, like me,” declared 
the little girl who thought she was going to own 
an island. She approved of Sally Stanley very 
much, because the minister’s little girl was dainty, 
and kept her dresses clean, and was soft-spoken. 

I got to run and holler once in a while or I thinks 
I m choking,” confessed Henrietta. “But your 
mamma, Miss Jessie, says I’ll get over that after 
a ^'le. She says I’ll go to school and learn a lot 
an that maybe I’ll be as nice as Sally some day.” 
hope you will,” said Jessie warmly. 



“That’s hardly to be expected,” Henrietta re- 
joined in her old-fashioned way. “Sally was born 
that way. But I always was a tough one.” 

“There is a good deal in that,” sighed Jessie 
to the other Roselawn girls. “The poor little 
thing! She never did have a chance. But Momsv 
is already talking about sending her away to school 
to have her toned down and-” 

“Suppose the Blajrs won’t hear to it?” sug- 
gested Amy. 

“Leave it to Momsy to work things out her 
way,” said Jessie, more gaily. 

They soon left the sand dunes behind them and 
marched up over what the natives of the island 
called “the downs” to a scrubby pasture at the 
edge of the golf links. Crossing the links watch¬ 
fully they only had to dodge a couple of times 
when the players called “Fore!” and so got safely 
past the various greens and reached the patch of 
wood between the club premises and the hotel 

There was a spring here which they had been 
told about, and it was near enough noon for lunch 
to occupy an important place in their minds. They 
spent an hour here; but after that, much as she 
had eaten, Henrietta began to run around again. 
She could not keep still. 

Her voice was suddenly stilled and she halted 
in the path and stood like a pointer flushing 3 



covey of birds. The older girls were surprised. 
Amy drawled: 

“What’s the matter, Hen ? You don’t feel sick, 
do you?” 

“I hear something,” declared Henrietta, her 
freckled face clouding. “I hear somebody talk 
that I don’t like.” 

“Who is that?” asked Nell. 

“She makes me feel sick, all right,” grumbled 
the little girl. “Oh, yes! It’s her. And if she 
says again that she owns my island, I’ll—I’ll-” 

“Belle Ringold!” exclaimed Amy, much amused. 
“Can’t we go anywhere without Belle and Sally 
showing up?” 

The two girls whom they all considered so un¬ 
pleasant appeared at the top of the small hill and 
came down the path. They were rather absurdly 
dressed for an outing. Certainly their frocks 
would have looked better at dinner or at a dance 
than in the woods. And they strutted along as 
though they quite well knew they had on their very 
best furbelows. 

“Oh, dear me! there’s that awful child again,” 
drawled Belle, before she saw the older girls sit¬ 
ting at the spring. 

She must be lost away up here,” said Sally 

oon, idly. “Say, kid, run get this folding cup 
“lied at the spring.” 

What for ?” demanded Henrietta. 



“Why, so I can drink from it, foolish !” 

“You bring me a drink first,” said the freckle 
faced girl stoutly. “Nobody didn’t make me y 0U r 
servant to run your errands—so now!” 

“Listen to her 1” laughed Belle. “She waits on 
Jess Norwood and Amy Drew hand and foot. Of 
course she is a servant.” 

“You ain’t a servant when you wait on folks for 
love,” declared Henrietta, quickly. 

Amy clapped her hands together softly at this 
bit of philosophy. Jessie stood up so that the girls 
from the hotel could see her. 

“Oh! Here’s Jess Norwood now,” cried Sally. 
“You might know!” 

Little Henrietta was backing away from the 
two newcomers, but eyeing them with great dis¬ 
favor. She suddenly demanded of Jessie : 

Is this spring on a part of my land, Miss 

It may be, said Amy, quickly answering be- 
fore Jessie could do so. “Like enough all this 
grove is yours, Hen.” 

Why,” gasped Belle Ringold, “my father is 
just about to take possession of this place. He is 
going to have surveyors come on the island and 
survey it.” 

This is my woods!” cried Henrietta. “It’s my 
spring! i ou sha’n’t even have a drink out of it — 
neither of you girls!” 


“What nonsense!” drawled Belle. u Who will 
stop us, please?” and she came on down the path 
toward the spring. 

The other girls had now got up. Jessie tried to 
reach out and seize Henrietta; but the latter was 
so angry that she jerked away. She stood before 
Belle and Sally with flashing eyes and her hands 
clenched tight. 

“You go away! This is my woods and my 
spring! You shan’t have a drink!” 

“The child is crazy,” said Belle, harshly. “Let 
me pass, you mean little thing!” 

At that Henrietta stooped and caught up dirt 
in each grubby hand. It was a little damp where 
she stood, and the muck stuck to her palms. She 
shrieked hatred and defiance at Belle and, running 
forward, smeared the dirt all up and down the 
front of the rich girl’s fine dress. 
b Bdle shrieked quite as loudly as the angry Hen¬ 
rietta and threatened all manner of punishment. 
But she could not catch the freckled girl, who was 
as wriggly as an eel. 

111—I’ll have you whipped! You ought to be 
spanked hard!” panted Belle Ringold. “And it is 
your fault, Jess Norwood. You egged her on.” 

I did not,” said Jessie, angrily. 

ut she was vexed with Henrietta, too. She ran 
!. ter cau ght the panting, sobbing little thing. 

e realI Y was tempted to shake her. 



“What do you mean, Henrietta Haney, by act- 
ing this way and talking so ? Do you want to dis¬ 
grace us all? For shame!” 

“I don’t talk no worse than the Ringold one," 
declared Henrietta. 

Jessie tried a new tack. She said more quietly: 
“But you know better, Henrietta.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And perhaps she doesn’t,” ventured Jessie. 

“Well—er—she’s got money,” pouted Henri- 
etta. “Why doesn’t she hire somebody to teach 
her better? You know I never did have any 
chance, Miss Jessie.” 

She felt she was in disgrace, however, and the 
older girls let her feel this without compunction. 
Belle was frightfully angry about her frock. She 
sputtered and threatened and called names that 
were not polite. Finally Jessie said: 

“If you feel that way about it, Belle, send the 
dress to the cleaner’s and then send the bill to my 
mother. That is all I can say about it. But I 
think you brought it on yourself by teasing Henri¬ 

In spite of this speech to Belle, Henrietta felt 
that she was in disgrace as Jessie marched her 
away from the spring. Little Sally Stanley came 
to her other side and squeezed Henrietta’s dirty 
hand in sympathy. 

“Huh 1” snuffled Henrietta. “It’s too bad you ve 



got the same name as that Moon girl, Sally. Why 
don’t you ask the minister to change it for you? 
He christens folks, doesn t he? 

“Why, yes,” murmured Sally, uncertainly. “But 
I was christened, you know, oh, years and years 

“That don’t cut no ice,” replied Henreitta, un¬ 
conscious that her language was not all it ought to 
be. “You just have him do it over again. And 
don’t be no ‘Sally,’ nor no more ‘Belle.’ ” 


“radio control” 

ESSIE NORWOOD had talked over the mat¬ 
ter of the new super-regenerative circuit with 
her father and had got him interested in the 
idea of using one to improve their own radio re¬ 
ceiving. It was not difficult to interest Mr. Nor¬ 
wood in it, for he had become a radio enthusiast 
like his daughter since the Roselawn girls had 
broken into the wireless game. 

With the large party now in the Norwood's 
bungalow in Station Island, it was not convenient 
to use only the head-phones when the radio con¬ 
certs were to be received out of the ether. The 
two-step amplifier Mr. Norwood had formerly 
bought did not always work well, especially, for 
some unknown reason, since they had come to the 

In addition, the sounds through the horn seemed 
to be scratchy and harsh, a good deal like t e 
sounds from a poor talking machine. From what 
Jessie had read, she understood that these hars 
noises would be obviated if the super-regenerative 

circuit was put in. Her father had telegrap e 




for the material to build the super-regenerative 
and amplifier circuit, and the material came by ex¬ 
press the morning after the picnic on which Hen¬ 
rietta had disgraced herself. 

“We will try the thing here on the island, 
Mr. Norwood said to Jessie. “If it works here it 
will surely work back at Roselawn, for the temper¬ 
ature, or humidity, or something, is different there 
from what it is here. At least, so it seems to me, 
and the state of the air surely influences radio.” 

“Static,” said Jessie, briefly, reading the instruc¬ 
tions in the book. 

Amy, of course, was quite as interested in the 
new invention as her chum; and Nell, too. But 
they were not so clear in their minds as was Jessie 
about what should be done in building the new set. 
Jessie was glad to have her father show so much 
interest, for he was eminently practical, and when 
the girls were uncertain how to proceed it was nice 
to have somebody like the lawyer to turn to. 

He even let Mr. Drew and the two mothers go 
ofi to the golf course that day without him, while 
he gave his aid to the girls. The boys were clean¬ 
ing up the yacht in preparation for the voyage they 
expected to make in a short time. 

Nell s Aunt Freda had arrived that morning, so 
1 e minister’s daughter did not have to worry at 
all about Bob and Fred and Sally. 

And to help out,” Amy said, with a giggle, 



‘'Henrietta is invited over to the Stanley bungalow 
to play with little Sally.” 

“I guess Aunt Freda will get along all right with 
them,” observed Nell, with some amusement. 
“But Fred pretty nearly floored her at the start. 
She says it takes her several hours to get ‘accli- 
mated’ when she comes to our house.” 

“What did Fred say—or do?” asked Jessie, 

“There was something Aunt Freda advised him 
to do and he said he would—‘to-morrow.’ 

“ ‘Don’t you know,’ she asked him, ‘that “to¬ 
morrow never comes”?’ 

“ ‘Gee! and to-morrow’s my birthday,’ grumbled 
Fred. ‘Now I suppose I won’t have any.’ ” 

“What kids they are!” gasped Amy, when she 
had recovered from her laughter. “I don’t know 
whether a younger brother is worse than an older 
brother or not. I’ve had my troubles with Bar- 
rington,” and she sighed with mock seriousness. . 

“Ha!” exclaimed Jessie. “I guess he’s had his 
troubles with you. Do you remember when you 
smeared your hands all up with chocolate cake and 
tried to wipe them clean on Darry’s new trousers. 

Nell shouted with laughter at this revelation, 
but it did not trouble Amy Drew in the least. 

“Yes,” she admitted. “My taste in the art ot 
dressing, you see, was well developed even at 



early age. Those trousers, I remember, were of 
an atrocious pattern. 

“Nonsense 1” cried Jessie. “They were Darry s 
first long pants, and you were mad to think he was 
so much older than you that he could put on men’s 

“Dear me!” sighed Amy. “You make me out 
an awful creature, Jess Norwood. But, never 
mind. Darry has paid me up and to spare for 
that unladylike trick. He has been a trial and 
is so yet. He doesn’t know how to pick a decent 
necktie. His shirts—some of them—are so loud 
that you can see him coming clear across The 
Green. Why! they tell me that his shirts are as 
well known in New Haven, and almost as prom¬ 
inently mentioned by the natives, as the Hartley 
Memorial Hall; and almost nobody gets away 
from the City of Elms without being obliged to 
see that.” 

“What a reckless talker you are, Amy!” Jessie 
said, smiling. “And I will not hear you run Darry 
down. I think too much of him myself.” 

“Don’t let him guess it,” said the absent Darry’s 
sister, with a grin. “It will spoil him—make him 
proud and hard to hold.” 

‘That’s a good one!” laughed Nell. “You 
think Darry can be as easily spoiled by praise as 
the Chinese servant Reverend tells about that he 

a d * n California. This was before I was born. 



Father and mother got a Coolie right at the dock. 
You could do that in those days. And John 
scarcely knew a word of English, not even the 
pidgin variety. 

“But Reverend says that when John acquired a 
few English words he was so proud that there was 
no holding him. He asked the name of every new 
object he saw and mispronounced it usually in the 
most absurd manner. Once John found a spar¬ 
row’s nest in the grapevine and shuffled into Rev¬ 
erend’s study to tell him about it. 

“ ‘Is there anything in the nest yet, John?’ Rev¬ 
erend asked him. 

“ ‘Yes,’ the Chinaman declared, puffed up with 
his knowledge of the new language, ‘Spallow alle 
samme got pups.’ ” 

While they chattered and laughed the three 
girls were as busy as bees with the new radio ar¬ 
rangement. Amy said that Jessie kept them so 
hard at work that it did not seem at all as though 
they were “vacationing.” It was good, healthy 
work for all. 

“It does seem awfully quiet here without Hen, 
went on Amy, hammering on a board with a heavy 
hammer and making the big room where the radio 
set was, ring. “She keeps the place almost as 
tomb-like as a boiler shop— what?” 

“You can make a little noise yourself,” J essie 
told her. “What’s all the hammering for? 



“So things won’t sound too tame. How are we 

getting on with the new circuit?” 

“Why, Amy Drew! you just helped me place 
this vario-coupler. Didn’t you know what you 
were doing?” 

“Not a bit,” confessed Amy. You are away 
out of my depth, Jess. And don’t try to tell me 
what it all means, that’s a dear. I never can re¬ 
member scientific terms.” 

“Put up the hammer,” said Nell, laughing. 
“You are a confirmed knocker, anyway, Amy. But 
I admit I do not understand this tangle of wires.” 

They did not seek to disconnect the old regen¬ 
erative set that day, for there was much of interest 
expected out of the ether before the day was" over. 
One particular thing Jessie looked for, but she had 
said nothing about it to anybody save her very 
dearest chum, Amy, and the clergyman’s daughter, 

Two days before she had done some telephon¬ 
ing over the long-distance wire. Of course there 
was a cable to the mainland from Station Island, 
and Jessie had called up and interviewed Mark 
Stratford at Stratfordtown. 

Mark was a college friend of Darry and Burd, 
but he was likewise a very good friend of the Rose- 
lawn girls—and he had reason for being. As re- 
ated in a previous volume, “The Radio Girls on 
t e Program,” Jessie and Amy had found a watch 



Mark had lost, and as it was a valuable watch and 
had been given him by his grandmother, Mark was 
very grateful. 

Through his influence:—to a degree—Jessie and 
Amy had got on the program at the Stratfordtown 
broadcasting station. And now Jessie had talked 
with the young man and arranged for a surprise by 
radio that was to come off that very evening at 
“bedtime story hour.” 

Henrietta and little Sally and Bob and Fred 
Stanley, as well as some of the other children of 
the bungalow colony, crowded into the house at 
that time to “listen in” on the Roselawn girls’ in¬ 

The amplifier worked all right that evening, 
and Jessie was very glad. The little folks arranged 
themselves on the chairs and settees with some 
little confusion while Jessie tuned the set to the 
Stratfordtown length of wave. There was some 
static, but after a little that disappeared and they 
waited for the announcement from the faraway 

By and by, as Henrietta whispered, the radio 
began to “buzz.” “Now we’ll get it!” cried the 
little Dogtown girl. “I hope it is about the little 
boy with the rabbit ears that he could wiggle* 

“S-sh!” commanded Jessie, making a gesture 
for silence. 



And then out of the air came a deep voice: 

‘•\Ve have with us this evening, children, the 
Radio Man, who, just like Santa Claus, knows all 
our little shortcomings, as well as our virtues. 
Have you all been good boys and girls to-day? 
Don’t all say ‘Yes’ at once. Better stop and think 
about it before you speak. 

“Before the bedtime story,” went on the voice 
out of the horn, “the Radio Man must tell some of 
you that you must take care, or you will get on the 
black list. Here is a 1/ttle girl, for instance, who 
may be rich when she grows up. But she must 
have a care. People who grow up rich and own 
islands must be very nice.” 

“Oh! Oh! That’s me!” gasped Henrietta. 
“How’d he know me?” 

“So I have to warn Henrietta, the little girl I 
speak of, that there is a lot she must do if she 
wishes in time to enjoy the wealth which she ex¬ 

At that the other children began to exclaim. 
It was Henrietta. They almost drowned out the 
first of the bedtime story with their excited voices. 

Well,” exclaimed Henrietta, “I guess every¬ 
body knows about my owning this island, so that 

‘ngold one needn’t talk! But Miss Jessie’s 
m °ther told me what I had got to do to deserve 
m >’ island.” 



“What have you got to do?” asked Amy, cu ri 
ously. “The Radio Man says you must be good.’’ 

“Miss Jessie’s mother says I’ve got to makt 
folks love me or I won’t enjoy my island at all— 
so now. But,” she added confidentially, “I don’t 
believe I ever shall want that Ringold one and 
Sally Moon to love me. Do you s’pose that's 

After the children had gone the older girls dis¬ 
cussed a point that Amy brought up regarding the 
incident. Of course, Amy was in fun, for she 

Listen! Didn’t I read something about ‘radio 
control’ in one of our books, Jess? Well, there is 
an example of radio control— control of children. 
Henrietta is going to remember that she is on the 
Radio Man’s list. She’ll be good, all right!” 

Mr. Norwood laughed. “How do we know 
what great developments may come within the 
next few years in the line of radio control? Al¬ 
ready the control of an aeroplane has been tried, 
and proved successful. A submarine may be gov¬ 
erned from the shore. The drive of a torpedo 
has already been successfully handled by wireless. 

“In time, perhaps a farmer may sit before a key¬ 
board in his office and manage tractors plowing 
and cultivating his fields. Ships of all descriptions 
will be managed by compass control. And auto¬ 


“I hope Bill Brewster learns to handle his red 

by wireless,” chuckled Amy. “It will then be 
less dangerous to himself and to his friends, if not 
to pedestrians,” and this quaint idea amused all the 
Roselawn girls. 



J ESSIE, Amy, and Nell had spied, on their hike 
and picnic, an inlet in the shore of the island 
facing the mainland, on the sands of which 
were several fish houses and several rowboats and 
small sailboats that the girls were sure might be 
had for hire. 

“We might have shipped our new canoe down 
here and had some fun,” Amy said. “That bay is 
a wonderful place to sail in. Why, you can scarce¬ 
ly see the port on the other side of it. And the 
island defends it from the sea. It is as smooth as 
can be.” 

Nell was very fond of rowing, and she ex¬ 
pressed a wish that they might go out in one of 
the open boats. She would row. So the three 
chums escaped the younger children the next after¬ 
noon and slipped over to the other side of the 
island, across the sand dunes. 

They found an old fisherman who was perfectly 
willing to hire them a boat, and, really, it was not 
a bad boat, either. At least, it had been washed 
out and the seats were clean. The oars were 
rather heavier than Nell Stanley was used to. 


the tempest 


.‘You need heavy oars on this bay, young lady,” 
clared the boat-owner. “Nothing fancy does 
Jre When a squall comes up ” 

D “Oh but you don’t think it looks like a squall 
this afternoon, do you?” Jessie interrupted. 

‘•Dunno. Can’t tell. Ain’t nothing sartain 
about it,” said the pessimistic old fellow. “Some¬ 
times you get what you don’t most expect on this 
bav. I been here, man and boy, all my life, and I 
give you my word I don’t know nothing about the 

“Oh, come on!” exclaimed Amy, under her 
breath. “What a Job's comforter he is! Who 
ever heard of a fisherman before who didn’t know 
all about the weather?” 

“Maybe we had better not go far,” Jessie, who 

was easily troubled, said hesitatingly. 

“Come on,” said Nell. “He just wants to keep 
us from going out far. Fie is afraid for his old 
tub of a boat.” 

She said this rather savagely, and Jessie thought 
it better to say nothing more of a doubtful nature, 
having two against her. Besides, the sky seemed 
quite clear and the bay was scarcely ruffled by the 


The old man sat and smoked and watched them 
push off from the landing without offering to help. 
He did not even offer to ship the rudder for them, 
although that was a clumsy operation. When 



Jessie and Amy had managed to 
while Nell settled herself at the 

Secure itinp U 

°ars, the old 

“That other thing in the bow is a anchor, y 
don’t use that unless you want to stay h;^ 
somewhere. Understand?” 

“ He must think we are very poor sailors,” said 

“I feel like making a face at him—as Henrietta 
does,” declared Amy. “I never saw such a can¬ 
tankerous old man.” 

Nell braced her feet and set to work. She was 
an athletic girl and she loved exercise of all kind. 
But rowing, she admitted, was more to her taste 
than sweeping and scrubbing. 

Amy steered. At least, she lounged in the stern 
with the lines across her lap. Jessie had taken her 
place in the bow, to balance the boat. They 
moved out from shore at a fine pace, and even 
Amy soon forgot the grouchy old fisherman. 

There were not many boats on the bay that 
afternoon—not small boats, at least. The steamer 
that plied between the port and the hotel landing 
at the north of the island at regular hours passed 
in the distance. A catboat swooped near the girls 
after a time, and a flaxen-haired boy in it—a boy 
of about Darry Drew’s age—shouted something 
to them. 

“I suppose it is something saucy,” declared 

the tempest 

13 s 

"iT But I didn’t hear what he said and sha’n’t 

I don’t feel just like fighting with strange 

^Tessie was the first to see the voluminous clouds 
• ing from the horizon; hut she thought little of 
Aein The descending sun began to wallow in 
them! and first the girls were in a patch of shadow, 
and then in the sunlight. 

“Don’t you want me to row some, Nell?” Jes¬ 

sie asked. 

“I’m doing fine,” declared the clergymans 
daughter. “But—but I guess I am getting a blis¬ 
ter. These old oars are heavy.” 

“We ought to have made him give us two 
pairs,” complained Amy. “Then the two of you 
could row.” 

“Listen to her!” cried Jessie. “She would never 
think of taking a turn at them. Not Miss Drew!” 

“Oh, I am the captain,” declared Amy. “And 
the captain never does anything but steer.” 

They had rowed by this time well up toward the 
northerly end of the island. Hackle Island Hotel 
sprawled upon the bluff over their heads. It was 
a big place, and the grounds about it were at¬ 

“I don’t see Belle or Sally anywhere,” drawled 
Amy. “And see! There aren’t many bathers 
down on this beach.” 

“This is the still-water beach,” explained Jessie. 



“I guess most of them like the surf bathing on th; 
other side.” 

There were winding steps leading up the bluft to 
the hotel. Not many people were on these step*, 
but the seabirds were flying wildly about the steps 
and over the brow of the bluff. 

“Wonder what is going on over there:" 
drawled Amy, who faced the island just then. 

Nell stopped rowing to look at the incipient blis¬ 
ter on her left palm. Jessie bent near to see it, 
too. Nobody was looking across the bay toward 
the mainland. 

“You’d better let me take the oars,” Jessie said. 
“You’ll have all the skin off your hand.” 

“Why should you skin yours?” demanded Nell. 
“These old oars are heavy.” 

“How dark it is getting!” drawled Amy. ‘ Even 
the daylight saving time ought not to be blamed 

for this.” '"iM . H 

Jessie looked up, startled. Over the mainland 
a black cloud billowed, and as she looked lightning 
whipped out of it and flashed for a moment like a 

searchlight. # , 1 

“A thunderstorm is coming 1” she cried. e 

better turn back.” 

But when Nell looked up and saw the com ^ 
tempest she knew she could never row bac to 
inlet before the wind, at least, reached them 

the tempest 


AVe’ll go right ashore,” she said with con- 

" “What do you say, Amy?” Jessie asked. 

“Far be it from me to interfere,” said the other 
Roselawn girl, carelessly, and without even turn¬ 
ing around to look. “I’m in the boat and will go 
wherever the boat goes. 

Nell, settling to the oars again with vigor, re¬ 
marked : 

“One thing sure, we don’t want the boat over¬ 
turned and have to follow it to the bottom. Oh! 
Hear that thunder, will you?” 

Amy woke up at last. She twitched about in 
the stern and stared at the storm cloud. It was 
already raining over the port, and long streamers 
of rain were being driven by the rising wind out 
over the bay. 

‘'Wonderful!” she murmured. 

"Where are you going, Nell?” suddenly 
shrieked Jessie. “The boat is actually turning 
clear around!” 

“Don’t blame me 1” gasped Nell. “I am pulling 
straight on, but that girl has twisted the rudder 
lines. Do see what you are about, Amy, and please 

be careful!” 

My goodness 1” gasped the girl in the stern. 
1 s g°‘ n g to storm out here, too.” 

She frantically tried to untangle the rudder 
es ’ while she had been lying idly there, she 



had twisted them together in a rope, and she w 3s 
unable to untwist them immediately. Meanwhile 
the thunder rolled nearer, the lightning flashed 
more sharply, and they heard the rain drumminj 
fen the surface of the water. Little froth-streaked 
■waves leaped up about the boat and all three or 
the girls realized that they were in peril. 



“T ET ’em alone, Amy!” begged Jessie, 
from the bow. “You are only twisting 
the boat’s head around and making it 
harder for Nell to row.” 

“I—could—do better—if the rudder was un¬ 
shipped,” declared Nell, pantingly. 

Immediately Amy jerked the heavy rudder out 
of its sockets. Fortunately she had got the lines 
over her head before doing this, or she might have 
been carried overboard. 

t F° r the rudder was too much for Amy. The 
rising waves tore it out of her hands the instant 

it was loose, and away it went on a voyage of its 


There!” exclaimed Jessie, with exasperation. 

at do you suppose that grouchy old man will 

w en we bring him back his boat without the 

bri V> '° n * sa y so muc h as he would if we didn’t 
"g him back his boat at all,” declared Amy. 

1 j 1 Pay for the rudder.” 

for aJ, 6 station was far too serious 

y to speak so carelessly. She urged Nell to 



let her help with the oars; and, in truth, the other 
found handling the two oars with the rising waves 
cuffing them to and fro rather more than she had 
bargained for. 

Jessie shipped the starboard oar in the bow and 
together she and Nell did their very best. But the 
wind swooped down upon them, tearing the tops 
from the waves and saturating the three girls with 

“I guess I know what that white-haired boy 
tried to tell us,” gasped Amy, from the stern. ‘‘He 
must have seen this thunderstorm coming.” 

“All the other boats got ashore,” panted Nell. 
“We were foolish not to see.” 

“Nobody on lookout—that’s it!” groaned Amy. 

A streak of lightning seemed to cross the sky, 
and the thunder followed almost instantly. Down 
came the rain—tempestuously. It drove over the 
water, flattening the waves for a little, then maN* 
ing the sea boil. 

“Hurry up, girls!” wailed Amy. “Get ashore 
—do! I’m sopping wet.” 

Jessie and Nell had no breath with which to 
reply to her. They were pulling at the top of t e,r 
strength. The shore was not far away in rea ity 
But it seemed a long way to pull with those iea 

oars. KnJr 

The rain swept landward and drove even 

from one thing to another 


even the few bathers, to cover. The shallow water 
was torn again into whitecaps and a lot of spray- 
tame inboard as Jessie and Nell tried their very 
best to reach the strand. 

Amy could do nothing but encourage them. 
There was no way by which she might aid their 
escape from the tempest. One thing, she did noth¬ 
ing to hinder! Even she was in no mood for 
‘‘making fun.” 

In fact, this tempest was an experience such as 
none of the three girls had seen before. Jessie 
and Nell were well-nigh breathless and their arms 
and shoulders began to ache. 

“Let me exchange with one of you, Nell! Jess!” 
cried Amy, her voice half drowned by the noise of 
wind and rain. 

“Stay where you are!” commanded Jessie, from 
the bow, as her chum started to come forward. 
‘A ou might tip us over!” 

“Sit down!” sang the cheerful Nell. “Sit down, 
you're rocking the boat!” 

“But I want to help!” complained Amy. 

You did your helping when you got rid of that 
rudder,” returned Nell, comfortingly. “Do be 
*till, Amy Drew!” 

can one Be still in such a jerky, pitching 
° at ' gasped the other girl. “Do—do you 
>nk you can reach land, Jessie Norwood?” 



“I’ve hopes of it,” responded her chum. “U 
isn’t very far.” 

“I wonder how far it is to—to land underneath 
the keel?” sputtered Amy. 

“For pity’s sake stop that!” cried Nell Stanley 
“Don’t suggest such gloomy and gruesome things." 

“Well,” grumbled Amy, “I believe it’s the near¬ 
est land.” 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” panted Jessie. ‘ But 
don’t talk about it, Amy.” 

The rain swept over and past the small boat in 
such heavy sheets that finally the girls could 
scarcely see the shore at all. Amy found some¬ 
thing to do—and something of importance. Al¬ 
though not much water slopped into the boat over 
the sides, the rain itself began to fill the bottom. 
The water was soon ankle deep. 

“Bail it! Bail it!” shouted Nell. 

“Oh! is that what the tin dipper is for ?” gasped 
Amy. “I—I thought it was to drink out of.” 

Afterward “Amy’s drinking cup” made a joke, 
but just then nobody laughed at the girl’s mistake. 
She set to work with vigor to bail out the bo3t. 
and kept it up “for hours and hours” she declare . 
though the others insisted it was “minutes an 

At last they reached the strand. 

One of the bathing house men ran out to 
pull the bow of the boat up on the sands. 

from one thing to another 


“Run along up to the hotel 1” he cried. “There 

: n0 good shelter down here for you.” 

‘ The m oment they could do so the three girls 
leaped ashore. Thus relieved of their weight, the 
boat was the more easily dragged out of the reach 
of the waves, which now began to roll in madly. 
The lightning increased in its intensity, the thun¬ 
der reverberated from the bluff. The tempest 
was at its height when they hastened to mount the 
winding wooden stair. 

“Oh, my blister! Oh, my blister!” moaned 
Nell, as she climbed upward. 

“Everything I’ve got on sticks to me like a twin 
sister,” declared Amy Drew. “Oh, dear! How 
shall we ever get home in these soaked rags?” 

“We must go to the hotel,” cried Jessie. “Come 

She was the first to reach the top of the stairs. 
There was a garden and lawn to cross to reach the 
veranda. As the rain was beating in from this 
direction none of the hotel guests was on this side 
of the house. The three wet girls ran as hard as 
they could for shelter. 

Just as Jessie, leading the trio, came up the 
veranda steps, she heard a loud and harsh voice 


. Well, of all things! I’d like to know what you 
Pfls think you are doing here? You have no 
business at this hotel. Go away!” 



Jessie almost stopped, and Amy and Nell ran 
into her. 

“Oh, do go on!” cried Amy. “Let us get inside 

“Well, I should say not!” broke out the harsh 
voice again, and the three Roselawn girls beheld 
Belle Ringold and Sally Moon confronting them 
on the piazza. “Just look at what wants to get 
into the hotel, Sally! Did you ever?” 

“They look like beggars,” laughed Sally. “The 
manager would give them marching orders in a 
hurry, I guess.” 

“Do let us in out of the rain,” Jessie said 
faintly. She did not know but perhaps the hotel 
people would object to strangers coming inside. 
But Amy demanded: 

“What do you think you have to say about it. 
Belle Ringold? Is this something more that you 
or your folks own? Do go along, Belle, an 

us pass.” b j 1 red 

“Not much; you won’t come in here * eC ( f^ 

Belle, setting herself squarely in their way. ’ 
you don’t! That door’s locked, anyway. ^ 
longs to Mrs. Olliver’s private suite - rs , ^ 

Olliver, of New York. I am sure she won 
you bedrabbled objects hanging around tie 

dows ” , j ” said Salb 

“Go around to the kitchen door, 

from one THING TO ANOTHER 145 

Moon, laughing. “That is where you look as 
though you belonged. 

"Oh, that’s good, Sally!” cried Belle. “Ex-act- 
ly . The kitchen door!” 

At that moment another flash of lightning and 
burst of thunder made the two unpleasant girls 
from New Melford cringe and shriek aloud. They 
backed against the closed door Belle had men¬ 
tioned as being the wealthy Mrs. Olliver’s private 

Amv and Nell screamed, too, and the three wet 
girls clung together for a moment. The rain came 
with a rush into the open porch, and rf they could 
be more saturated than they were, this blast of rain 
would have done it. 

“We have got to get under shelter!” shouted 
Jessie, and dragged her two friends farther into 
the veranda. Belle and Sally might have been 
mea n enough to try to drive them back, but at 
this point somebody interfered. 

A long window, like a door, opened and a lady 
looked out, shielding herself from the wind by 
folding the glass door. 

Girls! Girls!” she cried. “You will be 
drowned out there. Come right in.” 

Fine!” gasped Amy, not at all under her 
r ^f^* “Belle doesn’t own the hotel, after all!” 
•iZ-n ^ rs * OHiver!” exclaimed Sally Moon in 
v °ice, as she and Belle came out of re- 

a shrill 

146 from one thing to another 

tirement and likewise approached the open win 

“Come right in here,” said the lady, cheerfulk 
as Jessie and her friends approached. “You are 
three very plucky girls. I saw you out in your 
boat when the storm struck you. Come in and 
I’ll have my maid find you something dry to put 

“Oh, fine!” sighed Amy again. 

The trio of storm-beaten girls hastened in out 
of the wind and rain; but when Belle and Salk 
would have followed, Mrs. Olliver stopped them 

“Don’t you belong in the hotel?” she asked. 
“Then go around to the main entrance if you 
wish to come in. You are at home.” 

She actually closed the French window—but 
gently—in the faces of the bold duo. Amy. at 
least, was vastly amused. She winked wickedly 
at Jessie and Nell Stanley. 

“This will break Belle’s heart,” she whispered 



J ESSIE thought that the very wealthy Mrs. 
Purdy Olliver was no different from Momsy 
or Mrs. Drew or Nell’s Aunt Freda. She 
was just polite and kind. Secretly the girls from 
Roselawn thought the lady was very different 
from Belle’s mother and Mrs. Moon. Perhaps 
that fact was one reason why the unpleasant Belle 
Ringold had spoken in some awe of the New York 

She had a really wonderful suite at the Hackle 
Island Hotel, for she had furnished it herself and 
came here every year, she told her young visitors. 
There was a lovely big bath room with both a tub 
and a Roman shower. 

“Though, you can believe me,” said Amy, “I 
don’t have any idea that many of the old Romans 
had baths like this. It was ‘the great unwashed’ 
that supported Caesar. ‘Roman bath’ is only a 


Wrong! Not about Caesar’s crowd, but about 
. Romans in general as bathers,” answered Jes- 
** e - ‘Read your Roman history, girl. Or if not 



— r — Ktii l -aumc Historical novel." 

“Humph!” sniffed Amy, but made no f urth 

The girls laughingly disrobed and tried th 
shower, while the maid dried their outer clothin * 
furnishing each of the guests with kimono or 
negligee. Then they came out into Mrs. Olliver’s 
living room and took tea with her. 

They did not get their own clothes back until 
nearly six o’clock, and saw nothing of Belle and 
Sally when they came out of the hotel. Perhaps 
that was because they left by Mrs. Olliver’s pri¬ 
vate door and ran right down the steps to the 
beach where they had left the boat. 

The kind woman had asked them to come and 
see her again, and was especially cordial when 
she knew that Jessie was the daughter of the Mrs. 
Norwood who had been chairman of the founda¬ 
tion fund committee of the Women’s and Chil¬ 
dren’s Hospital of New Melford. 

“I think that idea of having a radio concert by 
which to raise funds for the hospital was unusually 

good,” the New York woman said. “It was the 
first thing that interested me in radio-telephony. 
I mean to have a set put in here soon. There is 
a big one in the hotel foyer, but it does not work 
perfectly at all times.” 

“Dear me,” said Nell, as the girls descended to 



(f, e beach, “y ou run * nto ra ^° ^ ans everywhere, 
don’t you? How interesting!” 

The boat was all right, only half filled with 
ff ater. The bathhouse man came and turned the 
craft over for them and emptied it. Jessie 
thanked and tipped him and he pushed them off. 
Jessie and Amy each took an oar and made Nell 
sit in the stern and nurse her blister. 

“It really is something of a blister,” Amy re¬ 
marked, looking at it carefully. 

“There’s water in it already, and it hurts!” 
wailed the clergyman’s daughter. 

“I see the water,” declared Amy. “It may be 
an ever-living spring there. You know, people 
have water on the brain and water on the knee; 
but seems to me a spring in your hand must be 
lots worse.” 

“You never will be serious,” said Nell, half 
laughing. “If the blister was on your hand-” 

“Don’t say a word! I think I shall have one 
before we reach the landing,” declared Amy. 
“And, girls, what do you suppose that grouchy 
old fisherman will say when he sees we lost his 

“He won’t see that,” replied Jessie. 

, "What! Why, listen to her!” gasped Amy. 

Is she going to try to get away before he misses 
the rudder?” 

Not at all,” returned her chum calmly, while 



Nell began to laugh. “It was you who losTtlT 

rudder, Amy Drew. Nell and I had nothin* I! 
do with that crime.” 

“Ouch!” cried Amy. “I wouldn’t have lost it 
if it hadn’t been for the thunderstorm comm* 
down on us so suddenly. And that old fellow 
didn’t warn us of any squall.” 

“He warned us that squalls were prevalent on 
the bay,” replied Nell. “He said he knew nothing 
about the weather. And I guess he told the 

“There is a great lack of unaminity in this 
trio,” complained Amy. “If I lost the rudder, 
didn’t we all lose it?” 

When they reached the inlet, however, the old 
fisherman was just as surprising as he had been in 
the first place. 

“Don’t blame me,” he said when the girls came 
ashore. “I told you I didn’t know anything about 
the weather. I wouldn’t have been surprised if 
you’d lost the boat.” 

“We only lost a part of it,” said Amy quickly. 
“The rudder.” 

“Well, it wasn’t much good. I can find another 
around somewhere. Lucky to get the hull of the 
boat back, I am.” M 

“You didn’t get the whole of it back, I tell you, 
said Amy, soberly. 



j_j e blinked at her, and without even a smile, 

,a '4)h! You mean that for a joke, do you? 
Well, I don’t understand jokes any more than I 
do the weather. No, you needn’t pay me for the 
rudder. ’Tain’t nothing.” 

The trio had a good deal to talk about when 
they got home, but Darry and Burd came in at 
dinner with the news that the Marigold was all 
ready for sea and that they would get under way 
right after breakfast the next morning. 

Dr. Stanley and his daughter and Jessie and 
Any were to be the boys’ guests on this trip, and 
the idea was to go along the coast as far as Boston 
and return. Mrs. Norwood had become used by 
this time to the boys going back and forth in the 
yacht and after her own voyage down to the island 
had forgotten her fears for the young folks. 

“I am sure Darry will not expose the girls to 
danger,” she said to her husband. “But I am 
glad Dr. Stanley is going with them. He has such 
good sense.” 

Henrietta wanted to go along. She did not 
see why she could not go on the yacht if “Miss 
Jessie and Miss Amy” were going. She might 
have whined a bit about it, if it had not been that 
she was reminded of the Radio Man. 

, ^ ou want to look out,” Amy advised her. 
ou know the Radio Man is watching you and 



like enough he’ll tell everybody just how bad 

“Gee!” sighed Henrietta. “It’s awful to b c 
responsible for owning an island, ain’t it?” 

The girls were eager to be off in the morning, 
and they scurried around and packed their over, 
night bags and discussed what they should wear 
for two hours before breakfast. Burd was not 
to be hurried at his morning meal. 

“No knowing what we may get aboard ship." 
he grumbled. “If it comes up rough there may 
be no chance at all to eat properly.” 

“Now, Burd Ailing!” exclaimed Amy. “How 
can you?” 

“How can I eat? Perfectly. Got teeth and a 
palate for that enjoyment.” 

“But don’t suggest that we may have bad 
weather. After that tempest yesterday-" 

“You’ll have no hotel to run to if we get squally 
weather,” laughed her brother. “I think, how¬ 
ever, that after that shower we should have clear 
weather for some time. Don’t let the ‘Burd Allies 
Blues’ bother you.” 

“Anyway,” said Jessie, scooping out her iced 
melon with some gusto, “we have a radio on boar 
and we can send an S O S if we get into troub e, 
can’t we?” 

“Come to think of it,” said Darry, 
radio hasn’t been working any too well. You wi 



have to give it the once over, Jess, when you get 


This made Jessie all the more eager to embark 
on the yacht. She was so much interested in radio 
that she wanted, as Amy said, to be “fooling with 
it all of the time 1” 

But when they got under why and the Marigold 
steamed out to sea there were so many other 
things to see and to be interested in that the girls 
forgot all about the radio for the time being, in 
the mere joy of being alive. 

Darry had shipped a cook; but the boys had to 
do a good deal of the deck work to relieve the 
forecastle hands. Stoking the furnace to keep up 
steam was no small job. The engines of the Mari¬ 
gold were old and, as Skipper Pandrick said, “were 
hogs for steam.” To tell the truth the boilers 
leaked and so did the cylinders. The boys had 
had trouble with the machinery ever since Darry 
had put the Marigold-into commission. But the 
young owner did not want to go to the expense 
of getting new driving gear for the yacht. And, 
after all, the trouble did not seem to be serious. 

The speed of the boat, however, was all the 
girls and other guests expected. The sea was 
smooth and blue, the wind was fair, the sun shone 
srarmly, and altogether it was a charming day. 
• obody expected trouble when everything was so 
oalm and blissful. 

I 54 


But some time before evening haze gathered 
along the sealine and hid the main shore and 
Hackle Island, too. Nobody expected a sea spell, 
however, from this mild warning—not even Skip¬ 
per Pandrick. 

“This is a time of light airs, if unsettled,” he 
said. “Thunderstorms ashore don’t often bother 
ships at sea. There’s lightning in them clouds 
without a doubt, but like enough we won’t know 
anything about it.” 

It was true the Marigold’s company was not 
disturbed in the least during the evening. After 
dinner the heavy mist drove them below and they 
played games, turned on the talking machine, and 
sang songs until bedtime. Sometime in the night 
Jessie woke up enough to realize that there was 
an unfamiliar noise near. 

“Do you hear it?” she demanded, poking Amy 
in the berth over her head. 

“Hear what?” snapped Amy. “I do wish you 
would let me sleep. I was a thousand miles deep 
in it. What’s the noise?” 

“Why,” explained Jessie, puzzled, “it sounds 
like a cow.” 

“Cow? Huh! I hope it’s a contented cow, I 
do, or else the milk may not be good for your 
coffee.” _ 

“She doesn’t sound contented,” murmured J es 
sie. “Listen!” 



The silence outside the portlight was shattered 
by a mournful, stuttering sound. Nell Stanley sat 
up suddenly on the couch across the stateroom and 
blinked her eyes. 

“Oh, mercy!” she gasped. “There must be a 
terrible fog.” 

“Fog?” squealed Amy. “And Jessie was tell¬ 
ing me there was a cow aboard. Is that the fog¬ 
horn? Well, make up your mind, Jess, you’ll get 
no milk from that animal.” 



T HE three girls did not sleep much after 
that. The grumbling, stuttering notes of 
the foot-power horn seemed to fill all the 
air about the Marigold. Darry told them at 
breakfast that he used this old-fashioned horn on 
the yacht because it took too much steam if they 
used the regular horn. 

“This is a great old tub,” complained Burd, who 
had spent the previous hour at the device. “She 
makes only steam enough to blow the horn \wien 
you stop the engines. Great! Great! ’ 

“You’d kick if you were going to be hung, 
observed his chum. 

“Might as well be hung as sentenced to the 
treadmill. I suppose I have to go back and step 
on the tail of that horn after breakfast? 

“You’ll take your turn if the fog does not Ut • 
“What could be sweeter!” grumbled Burd, an 
fell to on the viands before him with a just app 
ciation of the time vouchsafed him f° r * 

Burd’s appetite never failed. 
The fog, however, lifted. 


But it was a gr*>' 



day and the girls looked upon the vessels which 
appeared out of the mist about them with an in¬ 
terest which was half fearful. 

“Suppose one of those had run into us?” sug¬ 
gested Jessie. “And there is a great liner off 
yonder. Why, if that had bumped us we must 
have been sunk-” 

“Without trace,” finished Amy, briskly. “The 
old cow’s mooing did some good, I guess, Jess,” 
and she chuckled. 

She had told the boys about her chum thinking 
there must be a cow aboard in the night, and of 
course they all teased Jessie a good deal about it. 
She laughed with them at herself, however. Jes¬ 
sie Norwood was no spoil-sport. 

The Marigold steamed into the east all that 
afternoon. But the weather did not improve. 
The hopes of a fair trip were gradually dissipated, 
and even the skipper looked about the horizon and 
shook his head. 

Seems as though there was plenty of wind 
coming, Mr. Darrington,” he said to the owner 
0 the yacht. “If these friends of yours are easily 

m t a de sea-sick, we’d better get into shelter some¬ 

Where’ll we go?” demanded Darry. “Here 
' fe i are °ff Montauk.” 

, ™hh the direction the wind is going to blow 

en s ^ e § e ts going, we’d better run for the New 



Harbor at Block Island and get in through the 
breech there. It’ll be calm as a millpond, once 
we’re inside.” 

When Darry asked the others, however, the 
consensus of opinion was that they keep on for 

“Can’t we take the inside passage—go through 
the Cape Cod Canal?” asked Dr. Stanley. “That 
should eliminate all danger.” 

“Oh, there’s no danger,” Darry said. “The 
yacht is as seaworthy as can be. But I don’t want 
any of you to be uncomfortable.” 

“I’m a good sailor,” declared Nell. 

“You know Jess and I are used to the water,” 
Amy hastened to say. “Let us go on, Darry. 

But the wind sprang up a little later and began 
to blow fitfully. The skipper considered it safer 
to keep well out to sea. Inshore waters are often 
dangerous even for a craft of as light di aught as 
the Marigold. 

The crowd sat on deck, keeping as much as pos¬ 
sible in the shelter of the deckhouse, an ^f r 
just as jolly as though there was no sue t 
on the whole ocean as a storm. Dr. Stan ey ° 
them several of his funny stories, and amuse 

young folks immensely. . T ,, nt 

In the midst of the general hilarity Ne 
below for something. She was gone 0 <j er 
minutes and Jessie, at least, began o 



where she was when she saw Nell’s hand beckon¬ 
ing to her from an open stateroom window. Jessie 
got up and moved toward the place, wondering 
what the doctor’s daughter had discovered that so 
excited her. 

“What is it, Nell?” Jess whispered. 

“Come down here—do!” exclaimed the other 
girl, her tone half muffled. 

“What is the matter?” Jessie exclaimed, in 

But she slipped around to the other side of the 
cabin, faced the gale, and reached the companion- 
way. She darted down, being careful to shut tight 
the slide behind her. Already the waves were 
buffeting the small yacht and spray was dashing 
in over the weather rail. 

Jessie found some difficulty in keeping her feet 
in the close cabin. It was so dark outside that the 
interior of the yacht was gloomy. She groped her 
way to their stateroom, which was the biggest 

“What is the matter, Nell?” demanded Jessie, 
Pushing open the door and peering in. 

Nell Stanley’s face was white. She stood by 
the open window. At Jessie’s appearance she be¬ 
gun to sob and tremble. 

I-—I’m so frightened, Jess!” she gasped. 

Why, you silly! I thought you said you were 
a good sailor?” 



“It isn’t that,” Nell told her. “Don’t— don't 
you smell it?” 

“Don’t I smell what?” 

“Come in and shut the door. Now smell— 
smell hard!" 

Jessie began to giggle. “What do you mean? 
Why! I see a little haze of smoke by the window. 
Do I, or don’t I?” 

“I opened the window to let it out. But—but 
it comes more and more, Jessie,” stammered the 
clergyman’s daughter. “I believe the yacht is on 
fire, Jessie!” 

“Oh! Don’t say that!” murmured Jessie Nor¬ 
wood, suddenly frightened herself. 

“When I came in the room was full of smoke 
and—don’t you smell it?” 

“It doesn’t smell very nice,” admitted her 
friend. “Where does the smoke come from? 
Where caw it come from?” 

“It must come from below—from the o 

under us.” 

“But what can be burning? This is not a cargo 
boat,” said the puzzled Jessie. “We don t want 
to frighten them all, especially if it amounts 

nothing.” „ x - n 

“I know. That is why I called you first, 

declared, anxiously. “I—I wasn t sure. 

“Well, I am sure of one thing, said J 




“What is that?” 

“This is a very serious thing if it is serious. 
^Ve must tell Skipper Pandrick at once. Let him 
decide what is to be done.” 

“You wouldn’t tell Darry?” 

“The skipper is responsible. We won’t frighten 
the boys if we don’t need to,” and Jessie tried to 
open the door again. ‘‘Come on. Don’t stay here 
and get asphyxiated.” 

“It is all right with the window open,” said 


She turned to follow her chum and saw Jessie 
tugging at the door-knob and stopped, amazed. 
The other girl used both hands, but could not turn 
the knob. She tugged with all her strength. 

“Why, Jessie Norwood! what is the matter with 
it?” whispered Nell, anxiously. 

“The mean old thing won’t open! It’s a spring 
lock. How did it get locked this way, do you sup¬ 

“You slammed it when you came in, Jess,” Nell 
said. “But I had no idea that it could be locked 
that way. Especially from the outside. Oh, dear! 
Shall I shout for one of the boys ? Shall I ?” 

“Don’t!” gasped Jessie, still struggling with the 
door-knob. “Don’t you know if one of them 
c °mes here and sees this smoke, everybody will 
know it?” 

They’ll have to know it pretty soon,” said 



Nell. “The smoke is coming in all the time, J ess ” 
Jessie could see that well enough. She shrank 
from creating a panic aboard the yacht, realizin'* 
fully what a terrible thing a fire at sea can be. If 
this hovering fog of smoke meant nothing serious, 
their outcry for help at the stateroom window 
would create trouble—maybe serious trouble. 
Jessie had the right idea, if she could but carry it 
out—to tell the sailing master of the yacht, and 
only him. 

The brass knob seemed as firmly fixed in place 
as though it had never been moved since it came 
from the shop. Jessie, at last, came away from it. 
She peered out of the small window. If she could 
only catch the skipper’s eye 1 

But she could not. At that moment there was 
not a soul in sight from the window. She saw sea 
and sky, and that was all. 

“Oh dear, Jess!” murmured Nell Stanley, at 
last giving way to fear. “What shall we do.' 
We’ll be burned up in here 1” 

“Don’t talk so, Nell 1” commanded Jessie. “Do 
you want to scare me to death?” 

“It’s enough to scare anybody to death, pro¬ 
claimed the minister’s daughter. “I’m going to 
scream for father.” M J 

“You’ll do nothing of the kind!” her friend 
declared. “Shrieking about this will do no good, 
and may do harm. Can’t you see-” 



“Not much, with all this smoke in my eyes,” 

grumbled Nell. 

“Don’t be a goose ! If we yell, everybody will 
come running, and will get excited when they see 
the smoke.” 

“But, Jess,” Nell said very sensibly, u all the 
time we delay the fire is gathering headway.” 

“If it is a fire.” 

“Goodness me! Where there’s so much smoke 
there must be fire. How you talk!” 

“I don’t want to be shown up as a ’fraid cat and 
a killjoy,” cried Jessie. “The boys are always 
laughing at us, anway, because we get scared at 
little things-—>mice, and falling overboard, and a 
puff of wind. I am deadly sick of hearing: ‘Isn’t 
that just like a girl?’ So there!” 

“Well, for pity’s sake!” gasped the clergyman’s 
daughter. “That is just like a girl! Afraid of 
what boys will say of one! Not me!” 

“Girls ought to be just as fearless as boys, and 
have as much initiative. Now, Nell Stanley, sup¬ 
pose Darry and Burd were shut up in this state¬ 
room under these circumstances. What do you 
suppose they would do?” 

Nell laughed aloud, serious as the situation was. 

I guess Burd would put his head out of that win¬ 
dow and bawl for help.” 

“Darry wouldn’t,” declared Jessie, firmly. “He 



would know what to do. He would realize that it 
would not do to start a panic.” 

“But if the door has been locked on us?” 

“Darry would know what to do with that old 
lock. He’d—he’d find a way. Find out what the 
matter with it was.” 

Jessie sprang at the door again. She stooped 
down and looked at the under side of the brass 
lock. Then she uttered a shrill squeal of delight. 

“What is it now?” gasped Nell. 

“I’ve got it! There is a snap here that holds 
the knob so you can’t turn it 1 I must have snapped 
it when I came in 1” She jerked the door open and 
ran. “Come on, Nell!” 

“Well, of all things 1” gasped her friend. 

But she followed her friend out of the state¬ 
room. They ran as well as they could through 
the cabin and got out upon the open deck. Skip¬ 
per Pandrick, in glistening oilskins and sou’wester 
was far aft with his glasses to his eyes. He was 
watching a dark spot upon the stormy horizon 
that might have been steamer smoke, or a gather¬ 
ing storm cloud. 

The girls ran up to him, but Jessie pulled Nell s 
sleeve to admonish her to say nothing that might 
be overheard by the other passengers. 

“What’s doing, young ladies?” asked the skip¬ 
per, curiously, seeing their flushed and excite 



“Will—will you come below—to our stateroom 
—for a moment, Mr. Pandrick?” stammered 
Jessie. “There is something we want to show 
you. It is really something serious. Please come 
below at once.” 



T HE skipper looked rather queerly at the 
two excited girls, but he went below with 
them without further objection. In fact, 
Skipper Pandrick was a man of very few words; 
he proved this when Nell opened the stateroom 
door and he saw the smoke swirling about the 

“I reckon you girls ain’t been smoking in here,” 
he said grimly. “Then I reckon that smoke 
comes from below.” 

“Is the ship really on fire?” gasped Jessie. 
“Something’s afire, sure as you’re a foot high, 
said the skipper vigorously, and stormed out of 
the stateroom and out of the cabin. 

There was a hatch in the main deck amidships. 
He called two of the men and had it raised. The 
passengers as yet had no idea that anything wa* 
wrong, for Jessie and Nell kept away from them. 

But they watched what the skipper did. He 
had brought an electric pocket torch from 
and he flashed this before him as he descen e 
the iron ladder into the hold. Almost at once, 




however, a whiff of smoke rose through the open 

“Glory be, Tom!” said one sailor to his mate. 
"What do you make of that?” 

“You can’t make nothing of smoke, but smoke,” 
returned the other man. “It’s just as useless as 
a pig’s squeal is to the butcher.” 

But Jessie believed that the incident called for 

no humor. If there was a fire below- 

“Hi, you boys 1” came the muffled voice of Skip¬ 
per Pandrick from below, “couple on the pump¬ 
line and send the nozzle end below. There’s 
something here, sure enough.” 

As he said this another balloon of smoke floated 
up through the open hatch. It was seen from the 
station of the passengers. Darry jumped up and 
ran to the hatchway. 

What’s he doing? Smoking down there?” 
he demanded. 

It s sure a bad cigar, boss, if he’s smoking it,” 
said one of the men, grinning. 

Oh, Darry!” gasped Jessie. “The yacht is 
on fire 1” 

. Nonsense I” exclaimed the young man, rather 
'mpolitely it must be confessed. 

, e star ted to descend into the hold. The skip- 
, ( s voice rose out of it: 

Get away from there! This ain’t any place 
r you, Mr. Darry. Hustle that pipe-line.” 



“Is it serious, Skipper?” demanded the young 
collegian, anxiously. 

“I don’t know how bad it is yet. Tell the helms¬ 
man to head nor’east. Maybe we’d better make 
for some anchorage, after all.” 

Darry ran to the wheelhouse. The other pas¬ 
sengers began to get excited. Nell ran to her 
father and told him what she had first discovered. 

“Well, having discovered the fire in time, un¬ 
doubtedly they will be able to put it out,” said 
Dr. Stanley, comfortingly. 

But this did not prove to be easy. Skipper 
Pandrick had to come up after a while for a breath 
of cool air and to remove his oilskins. Darry an 
Burd got into overalls and helped in handling the 
hose. The steam needed to work the pump, how¬ 
ever, brought the engines down to a very sot 
movement. The Marigold scarcely kept her hea 

The fire, which had undoubtedly been 8®°“^ 
ing a long time, was obstinate. e ^ d t he 
skipper and his helpers poured upon it raise 
level of water in the bilge until Darry 
he feared the yacht would be water-logge • ^ 

Meanwhile the wind grew in savagene • 
stead of being gusty, it blew more j 1 . ^ 
violently out of the northeast. When■ re . 

man tried to head into it, under the s ip steal0 
layed instructions by Darry, the ac 



kept the old Marigold marking time instead of 
forging ahead. 

“If we have to put the steam to the pump to 
clear the bilge after this,” grumbled the pessimis¬ 
tic Burd, “we’ll never reach any shelter. Might 
as well run for the Bermudas.” 

“Won’t that be fine!” cried Amy. “I have 
always wanted to go to the Bermudas, and we’ve 
never gone.” 

“Fine girl, you,” retorted Burd. “You don’t 
know when you are in danger.” 

Fires out!” announced Amy. “The skipper 
says so. And I am not afraid of a capful of 

There was more danger, however, than the 
girls imagined. The water that had been poured 
into the yacht’s hold did not make her any more 
seaworthy. It was necessary to start the pump 
to try to clear the hold. 

The clapperty-clap; clapperty-clap! of the 
Pump and the water swishing across the deck to be 
V ^ te ^ ° Ut the ^ awse h°l es was nothing to 
ad to the passengers’ feelings of confidence. Be- 
1 e s, the water came very clear, and at its ap- 
Pearance the skipper looked doleful. 

What’s the matter, Skipper?” asked Darry, 
^eing quickly that something was still troubling 
the old man. 



“Why, Mr. Darry, that don’t look good to me, 
and that’s a fact,” the sailing master said. 

“Why not? The pump is clearing her fast.” 

“Is it?” grumbled Pandrick, shaking his head. 
“Of course it is 1” exclaimed Darry, with some 
exasperation. “Don’t be an Old Man of the 

Sea ” I 

“That’s exactly what I am, Mr. Darry,” said 

the skiooer. “I’m so old a hand at sea that I m 
Itayi looking for trouble. I confess it And 
see trouble—and work for all hands-nght here. 

“What do you mean?” asked Jessie, w 0 
chanced to be by. “The pump works all right just 

as Darry says, doesn’t it? 

“But, by gorry!” ejaculated the skipper, t 
looks as though we were just pumping the whole 

Atlantic through her seams. 

“Goodness! What do you mean? Jessie de- 

^“You think she is leaking?” asked Darry, m 

S0I “Bilge ain’t clean water like that,” answeied 
Pandrick “That’s as clear as the sea its -■ 
Mind you! I don’t say she leaks raore ’ n 
to keep her sweet. But if those pumps ^ 
purt’ soon, I shall have my suspicions. 

“Darry!” ejaculated Jessie, your yach 
ing apart. What are we going to do. 

“I don’t believe it,” muttered Darry. 



He had, however, to admit it after a time. It 
seemed as though the Marigold were suffering 
one misfortune after another. The fire, which 
might have been very serious, was extinguished; 
but the yacht lay deep in the troubled sea, rolling 
heavily, and the water pumped through the pipe 
was plainly seeping in through the seams of her 

“Goodness me! shall we have to take to the 
boat and the life raft?” demanded Amy. 

It was scarcely possible to joke much about the 
situation. Even Amy Drew’s “famous line of 
light conversation” could not keep up their spirits. 

The wind continued to blow harder and harder. 
The yacht could no longer head into it. Dr. Stan¬ 
ley looked grave. Nell, first frightened by her 
discovery of the fire in the hold, was now in tears. 

To add to the seriousness of the situation, there 
was not another vessel in sight. 



<‘/\F course,” Amy said composedly, “if 
I B worse comes to worst, we can send the 
news by radio that the yacht is sinking 
and bring to our rescue somebody—some¬ 

“Yes, we can!” exclaimed Burd Ailing. “A 
revenue cutter, I suppose? Don’t you suppose 
the United States Government has anything bet¬ 
ter to do than to look out for people who don’t 
know enough to look out for themselves? 

“That seems to be the Government’s mission 
a good deal of the time,” replied Dr. Stanley, 
with a smile. “But you don’t think it will be 
necessary to call for help, do you, Darrington? 
he asked the sober-looking owner of the yacht. 

“Well, the fire’s out, that’s sure- 

“You bet it is!” growled Burd. “It had to be 
out, there’s so much water in the hold. 

“But we are not sinking!” cried Amy. 

“Lucky we’re not,” said Burd. The ra 10 

doesn’t work.” , . 

“Why, how you talk,” Nell said admomshingiy- 



“You would scare us if we did not know you so 
well, Burd.” 

“You don’t know the half of it!” exclaimed 
the young fellow. “Fuel is getting low, too. 
Skipper wants us to work the pump by hand. That 
means Darry and me to ‘man the pumps.’ ” 

“And we can help,” said Jessie, cheerfully. “If 
the skipper thinks he needs to make more steam 
for the engines, why can’t we all take turns at 
the pump?” 

“Sounds like a real shipwreck story,” her chum 
observed, but doubtfully. 

“It will cause a mutiny,” declared Burd. “I 
didn’t ship on the Marigold to work like Old 
Bowser on the treadmill. And that is about how 
I feel.” 

“You can get out and walk if you don’t like it,” 
Darry reminded him. 

“And I suppose you think I wouldn’t. For two 

Just then the yacht pitched sharply and Burd 
almost lost his footing. The waves were really 
boisterous and occasionally a squall of rain 
swooped down and, with the spray, wet the entire 
deck and those upon it. 

Jessie was not greatly afraid of the elements 
or of what they could do to the yacht. But she 
was made anxious by the repetition of the state¬ 
ment that the radio was out of order. Originally 



the Marigold had had a small wireless plant, with 
storage batteries. Signals by Morse could be ex¬ 
changed with other ships and with stations ashore 
within a limited distance. 

But when Darry had bought the radio receiving 
set he had disconnected the broadcasting machine 
and linked up the regenerative circuit with the 
stationary batteries. As he had explained to Jes¬ 
sie, both systems could not be used at once. 

They had found that neither the receiving set 
nor the old wireless set worked w r elL It looked 
as though the boys had overlooked something in 
rigging the new set and the radio girls quite 
realized that in this emergency a general and per¬ 
haps a thorough overhauling of the wires and 
connections would be necessary to discover just 
where the fault lay. 

Jessie called Amy, and they went up into the 
little wireless room behind the wheelhouse where 
everything about the plant but the batteries were 
in place. This was a very different outfit from 
that in the great station at the old lighthouse on 
Station Island, which they had visited several 
days before. 

“If we only knew as much as that operator does 
about wireless,” sighed Jessie to her chum, there 
might be some hope of our untangling all this an 
finding out the trouble.” 

“He said he had been five years at it and didn 



kn ow s° vei-y much,” Amy reminded her dryly. 

Oh there will always be something new to 
<( earn about radio, of course,” her chum agreed. 

7 !. We had hls trainin g in the fundamentals 

o ladio, we would be equipped to handle such a 
mess as this. To tell you the truth, Amy, I think 
these two boys have made a cat’s cradle of this 

“And Darry spent more than a year aboard a 
destroyer and was trained to ‘listen in’ for sub¬ 
marines and all that!” 

“An entirely different thing from knowing how 
to rig wireless,” commented Jessie, getting down 
on her knees to look under the shelf to which the 
posts were screwed. “Oh, dear!” she added, as 

pkchT” HI Wish this wouldn’t 

“So say we all of us. What can I do, Jess?” 

JNot a thing—for a moment. Let me see: 
the general rules of radio are easily remembered, 
the incoming oscillations that have been inter¬ 
cepted by the antenna above the roof of the house 
are applied across the grid and filament of the 
detector tube-” 

str 3 h i a n S th ’ S j ^ gCr hefe ’” Put fn as Jessie 
struggled up again. 

actiorT f Ti hat ‘1 thC tUbe ' Throu S h the relay 

thJounh° f rh he i tUbe ’- an - ampIified CUrrent flows 
ough the plate circuit— here. Now,” added 



Jessie thoughtfully, if we couple this plate circuit 
back—Nol This is a simple circuit. It is like 
our old one, Amy. We can’t get much action out 
of this set. It is not like the new one we are 
putting in the bungalow.” 

“Well, the thing is, can we use it?” Amy de¬ 
manded. “Can you link the power, or whatever 
you call it, up with the sending paraphernalia and 
get an S O S over the water?” 

“Goodness, Amy! don’t talk as though you 
thought we were really in danger.” 

“Humph! I see the Reverend, as Nell calls him, 
out there with his coat off, in his shirt-sleeves, 
taking a turn with Burd at the pumps. They 
have rigged it for man power and are saving 
steam for the engines.” 

“Let me see!” cried Jessie, peering out of the 
clouded window too. “You’d never think he was 
a minister. Isn’t he nice?” 

Amy began to laugh. “Are all ministers sup 

posed to be such terrible people?” 

“No-o,” admitted Jessie, going back to the 
radio set. “But good as they usually are, we 
have the very best minister at the Ros- av 

Church, of any.” . ., 

“Yep. So we must plan to save him 1 a 

thing happens,” giggled Amy. 

“Let’s open the switch and see if we c 


1 77 

anything, ’ her chum said reflectively, picking up 
the head harness. 

“You mean hear if we can get anything,” cor¬ 
rected Amy. 

“Never mind splitting hairs, my dear. Is that 
the switch? Yes. Now!” 

She put on the rigging, but all she got out of 
the air, as she sadly confessed, were sounds like 
an angry cat spitting at a puppydog. 

“It isn’t just static,” she told Amy. “You try 
it. There is something absolutely wrong with 
this thing. See! We don’t get a spark.” 

“If we did we couldn’t read the letters.” 

“I believe I could read some Morse if it came 
slowly enough,” said Jessie, nodding. “But it is 

Drew"”’ n0t rCCeiving ’ 1 am thinkin S of, Amy 

Amy began to look more serious. Jessie was 
harping on a possibility she did not wish to admit 
was probable. She went out and, hunting up 
IJarry, demanded to know just how bad he thought 
they were off, anyway. 

Av ell. Sis, there is no use making a wrv face 

t: d"V*’” * he “ U r" y- see how 

hard the Reverend and Burd are working, and 

ey can t keep ahead of the water. The poor old 
Mangold really is leaking.” 

som 1S f e g -f ing t0 Sink ? Can,t we § et to land— 
ewhere. Can’t we go back to the island?” 



“Shucks, Sis! You know we are miles from 
Station Island. We are off Montauk—or we were 
this morning. But we are heading out to sea now 
—sou’-sou’east. Can’t head into this gale. She 
pitches too much.” 

“And—and isn’t there any help for us, Darry 

“We don’t need any help yet, do we?” he de¬ 
manded pluckily. “She is making good weather 
of it-” 

Just then the yacht rolled so that he had to 
grab the rail with one hand and Amy with the 
other, and both of them were well shaken up. 

“Woof!” gasped Darry, as they came out of 
the smother of spray. 

“Oh!” exploded Amy. “I swallowed a pail of 
water that time. Ugh! How bitter the sea is. 
Now, Darry, I guess we’ll have to send out sig¬ 
nals, sha’n’t we?” 

“How can we? I’ve tried the old radio al¬ 
ready. She is as dumb- as the proverbial oyster 
with the lockjaw.” 

“Jessie is going to fix it,” said Amy, with some 

“Yes she is! She’s some smart girl, I admit, 
her brother observed. “But I guess that is a job 
that will take an expert.” 

“You just see!” cried Amy. “You think she 
can’t do anything because she’s a girl.” 

I hold Jessie"! little] m “ nowa< %s. 

a thing can't be done-^ ‘ W °" der ' B “ if 

and feM” What y °“ th!nk beCa “ S£ ‘tied it 
“Huh I” 

he “Zl r d! ° gi t rfs wiU sh ™ y°"declared Amy 

chum tb, P ! pr T n ' n8: t0 march ba ek to her 
chum the next the deck became steady 

rolled unexpectedly rntd'/l “ W 

r eo. s iidi„ p ^thfdfcK;XfD^S; 

She was Saturated— P nd much *° d ” r . th£ Mg£ - 
mCJlt w ^ en Burd fished he^ouToi^the'scuppers" 



rpHE condition of the Marigold was actually 

1 much more serious than the Roselawn girls 
at first supposed. Jessie and Amy were 
so busy in the radio house for a couple of hours 
and were so interested in what they were doing 
that they failed to observe that the hull of the 
yacht was slowly sinking. 

Fortunately the wind decreased after a while; 
but by that time it was scarcely safe to head the 
yacht into the wind’s eye, as the skipper called it. 
She wallowed in the big seas in a most unpleasant 
way and it was fortunate indeed that all the pas¬ 
sengers were good sailors. 

Nell came and looked into the radio room once 
or twice; then she felt so bad that she went below 
to lie down. The doctor worked as hard as any 
man aboard. And his cheerfulness was always 

The minister knew that they were in peril. He 
would have been glad to see a rescuing vessel 
heave into sight. But he gave no sign that he con¬ 
sidered the situation at all uncertain or perilous m 
the least. 


The afternoon was passing. Another night on 

weatTe“r ^ if the ^htioJd 

weather the conditions, was a matter for grave 
consideration. The doctor and Darry confered 
with Skipper Pandrick. 

“Th TlS . hard , to sa ^” the sailing master observed. 

nere is no knowing what may happen. If the 
yacht was not so water-logged we might get in 
under our own steam— ” 

Darry.' Steam en0Ugh! ” c ™d 

skipper^' n °’ d ° n,t t0 ’” adm!tted the 

Stanfe^ '° ^ ^ W ° Uld y ° U Sa!I? ” asked Dr. 

I JZv 11 ’ t 7 W> : hCre ’ S n0t any bandy i ust now, 

I admit. If we head back for the land we may be 

th ow n on our beam . endS) j wiU say _ The J 

are big ones, as you see.” 

the" minister. n<>t VC,T •»« 

“I wouldn’t be raising any false hopes in your 
nund, sir, said Pandrick. 

a j° n y oId wet blanket, you are,” de- 

we do?” ari " y t0 thC Sailmg master< "What shall 

thelkippen ^ '° ^ ^ COmM t0 US) ” dedared 

"You are a fatalist, Mr. Pandrick,” said the 



minister, and Darry was glad to hear him laugh 

“No, sir. I’m a Universalist,” declared the 
seaman. “And I’ve all the hope in the world that 
we’ll come out of this all right.” 

“But can’t we do something to help ourselves?” 
demanded the exasperated Darry. 

“Not much that I know of. Here’s hoping the 
wind goes down and we have calm weather and 
see the sun again.” 

“Hope all you like,” growled the young fellow. 
“I am going to see if the girls aren’t able to bring 
something to pass with that radio.” 

He found his sister and Jessie rearranging a 
part of the circuit on the set-board. T hey w^ere 
very much in earnest. Thus far, however, they 
had been unable to get a clear signal out of the 
air, nor could they send one. 

“If we could reach another vessel, or a shore 
station, and tell them where the yacht is and that 
she is leaking, we’d be all right, shouldn t we, 
Darry?” Jessie asked earnestly. |M 

“But I am not at all sure we need help, he 

said, in doubt. 

“We may need it!” exclaimed his sister. 

“Why—yes, we may,” he admitted, thoug 

rather grudgingly. . , 

“Then we want to get this fixed,” Jessie de¬ 
clared. “But there is something wrong here. 



you see this Darry? It seems to me that there 
must be a part missing. When you and Burd set 
this up are you sure you followed the instructions 
of the book in every particular?” 

“Of course we did,” Darry said. 

“Of course we didn’t!” exclaimed Burd’s voice 
from the doorway. 

“What are you saying?” demanded his friend, 

“What I know. Don’t you remember that you 
lost the instruction book overboard sometime 
there, when we were getting the bothersome thing 

“So I did,” confessed Darry. “But, say! she 
was all right then.” 

“She hasn’t ever been all right,” accused his 
chum, “and you know it.” 

“We sent code signals by the old machine, all 

“But we’ve never been able to since we linked 
it up with this receiving set, and you know it,” 
said Burd. 

“It sounds to me,” said Amy, “as though 
neither one of you boys knew so awfully much 
about it.” 

“I know one thing,” said Jessie, with determina¬ 
tion. “All the parts are not here. These con¬ 
nections are not like any I ever saw before. It 
Is a mystery to me-” 



“Hold on!” exclaimed Darry Drew suddenly. 
“What did we do with all those little cardboard 
boxes and paper tubes the parts came in? Couldn’t 
be we overlooked anything) Burd? . 

“Don’t try to hang it on me!" exclaimed his 
chum. “I never claimed to know a thing about 
radio. You were the Big Noise when we put the 
contraption together.” 

“Aw, you! Where did we put the things Lett 

over?” . r j 

“There he goes!” exclaimed the confirmed 

joker. “He’s like the fellow who took the auto¬ 
mobile apart to fix it and had a bushel of parts 
left over when he was done. He doesn t 

know-” .. , r A 

“Beat it out of here,” roared Darry, and find 

that box we put the stuff into. You know.” 

Dr. Stanley came up to the radio room while 
Burd was searching for the rubbish box. T e 
clergyman spoke cheerfully, but he looked very 

“Is there any likelihood of our being able t 
send out a call for assistance, Jessie?” he asked, 

quietly. .-i 

“I don’t see how we can, Doctor Stanley, u 
we fix this radio set. We can’t get any spar - 
We have to be able to get a spark to sen 
message. The message will be stumbling enoug- 
I am afraid, even if we fix the thing, for none o 

v : . 4 . ' 


understands Morse very well. Unless Darry_” 

“Don’t look to me for help,” declared the col- 
egian. “I haven’t sent a message since we put 
the yacht in commission. We had a fellow aboard 
here until the other day who knew something 

about wireless and he was the operator. Not 

. ? ncJ 1 h . ave a code book with the alphabet 

in it,” said Jessie slowly. “I think if somebody 
read the dots and dashes to me I could send a 

., rt messa S e - But f bere is something wrong 
with this circuit.” 

Just then Burd Ailing came back. He brought 
with him a big corrugated cardboard container, 
in that the various parts of the radio outfit had 
been packed. 

Vvhat do you think about it?” he asked, 
there is something here that I never saw before, 
bee this jigamarig, Jess? Think it belongs on 
the contraption?” 

Oh!” cried Jessie, eagerly, pouncing on the 
small object that Burd held out to her. “I know 
what that is.” 

Hen you beat me. I don’t,” declared Burd. 
. ^ et ’ s see what else there is,” said Darry, div¬ 
ing into the box. “I left you to get out the parts, 

Kurd; you know I did.” 

Oh, splash!” exclaimed his friend. “We 
S t as well admit that we don’t know as much 



about radio as these girls. They leave us lashed 
to the post.” 

But Jessie and Amy did not even feel what at 
another time Amy would have called “augmented 
ego.” The occasion was too serious. 

The day was passing into evening, and a very 
solemn evening it was. The wind whined through 
the strands of the wire rigging. The waves 
knocked the yacht about. The passengers all felt 

weary and forlorn. . , , 

The two girl chums felt the situation less acute y 

than anybody else, perhaps, because they were so 
busy. That radio had to be repaired. 1 hat is 
what Jessie told Amy, and Amy agreed, ihe 
safety of the whole yacht’s company seemed de¬ 
pendent upon what the two radio girls could do. 
“And we must not fall down on it, Jess, Amy 

said vigorously. “How goes it now?” _ 

“This thing that Burd found goes right in here. 
We have got to reset a good part of the circuit to 
do it. I don’t see how the boys could have made 

such a mistake.” . . , „ i 

“Proves what I have always maintained, 
dared Amy Drew. “We girls are smarter than 
those boys, even if the said boys do go to co g 

Bah! What is college, anyway?” 

“Just a prison,” said Burd sepulchrally from 
the doorway. 



“Close that door!” exclaimed Jessie. “Don’t 

let that spray drift in here.” 

. Y( ; s : Do 2° awa y> fi urd, and see if the yacht 

is sinking any more. Don’t bother us,” com- 
manded Amy. 

The men were keeping the pumps at work, but 

! WaS an a ™ s timf - H was long dark and the 
lamps were l.ghted when Jessie pronounced the 
set complete Darry and Burd came in again 
and asked what they could do? 

W T IT/!'- N ° thing more >” saId Amy. 
Jessie has fixed this thing and she is going to have 

the honor of sending the message—if a message 
can be sent. s 

‘Well,” remarked Burd Ailing, “I guess it is 

P to you girls to save the situation. I have just 

found out that there isn’t as much provender as 

I was given reason to believe when we started. 

°“ sht t0 !f m Boston right now. And see 
where we are! 

That is exactly what we can’t see,” said Jessie. 

ut we must know. Did you get the latitude and 

longitude from the skipper, Darry?” 

“Yes. Here it is, approximately. He got a 
chance to shoot the sun this noon.” 

“The cruel thing!” gibed his sister. “But any- 

way, I hope he has got the situation near enough 
so some vessel can find us.” S 

Let us see, first, if we can send a message in- 



telligibly,” said Jessie, putting on the head har¬ 
ness, and speaking seriously. “It will be awful, 
perhaps, if we can’t. I know that the yacht is 
almost unmanageable.” 

“You’ve said something,” returned Burd. “The 
fuel is low, as well as the supplies in the galley. 

\Ve haven’t got much left-” 

“But hope,” said Jessie, softly. 

the mysterious message 

was a very IoneI ? 
•Tl O, . gIr }, aft f r the y ac ht sailed from 
Station Island. Not that she had no 
body to play with, for she had. There were other 
chddren besides Sally Stanley of her own Z 
or thereabout, in the bungalow colony. And as 
she had been in Dogtown, Henrietta soon became 
the leading spirit of her crowd. 

She even taught them some of her games and 
once more became “Spotted Snake, the Witch ” 

as shell SOme /V h n ChiIdren aIm ° St as 
i ‘ scarc d the Dogtown youngsters with 

her supposed occult powers. 

She was running and screaming and tearing her 
clothes most of the time when she was away from 

*”• N ° rwood ’ but in the company of Jessie’s 
mother she truly tried to “be a little lady ” 

Be it ever so painful, little Hen is going to 

ear " t ° b f of you and Jessie, Mafy ” 

laughed Mrs. Drew, who was like her daughL 

"Wh'^do Wa n t0 Ste ‘ he fun in thi "* s - 
child?” * y0U rea y ex P ect Will come of the 




“I think she will make quite a woman in time. 
And before that time arrives,” added Mrs. Nor¬ 
wood, “she has much to learn, as you say. In 
some ways Henrietta has had an unhappy chil- 
hood—although she doesn’t know it. I hope she 
will have better times from now on.” 

“You are sure to make her have good times, 
Mary,” said Mrs. Drew. “I hope she will appre¬ 
ciate all that Jessie and you do for her.” 

“She is rather young for one to expect appre¬ 
ciation from her,” Mrs. Norwood said, smiling. 
“But the little thing is grateful.” 

Without Jessie and Amy, however, Henrietta 
confessed she w T as very lonely. Sometimes she 
listened to the radio all alone, sitting quietly and 
hearing even lectures and business talks out of the 
air that ordinarily could not have interested the 
child. But she said it reminded her of “Miss 
Jessie” just to sit with the ear-tabs on. 

She had heard about the older girls going to 
the lighthouse station to interview the wireless 
operator there, and although Henrietta knew 
that the government reservation at that end of 
the island was no part of the old Padriac Haney 
estate, she wandered down there alone on the 
second day of the yacht’s absence and climbed up 
into the tower. 

The storm had blown itself out on shore, and 
the sun was going down in golden glory. Out at 

sea, although the waves still rolled high and the 

nZt w r: r uItuous in ™i 

settled waathe" ‘ C ° nt,nua,i °" » f 'ha u„. 

beW T th tta K 3d n ° L idea h ° W long i£ would be 

helrd 17 a fT7f B ° St0n ’ aIth ° U ^ h she had 
heard a good deal of talk about it. She had 

wa ched the Marigold steam out of sight into the 

east, and it seemed to the little girl that her friends 

were just there, beyond the horizon line, where she 

&ap“ PStCh ° f ** ***". smoke 

f j7l WirdeSS °P erator bad seen Henrietta be- 

nth 17 S - ab ° Ut the beach and fading the 
ther children in their play, and he was prepared 

for om e of her oddities. But she surprised him 
by her very first speech. 

“You’re the man that can send words out over 
the ocean, aren’t you?” 

puzzled. 0 SCnd SignaIS ’” hC admItted) but rathe£ 

w fd ^ 

outfit.” 17 ^ arC ° n a b ° at that has a WI ' reJ ess 

Henrietta ^ ^ ^ tbat Marigold,” announced 

“Oh! The yacht that sailed yesterday! Yes 
she carried antenna.” y ’ 



“And she carried Doctor Stanley and Miss Nell 
Stanley, too, besides the boys, Mr. Darry and 
Mr. Burd,” said Henrietta. “Then they can hear 

“If they know how to use the wireless they 
could catch a signal from this station.” 

“Miss Jessie knows all about radio,” said Hen¬ 
rietta. “She made it.” 

“Oh, she did?” 

“Yes. She made it all up. She and Miss Amy 
built them one at Roselawn. That was before 
Montmorency Shannon built his. Well, Miss Jes¬ 
sie is out there on the Marigold 

“So I understand,” said the much amused oper¬ 

“I wish you would—please—send her word 
that I’d like to have her come back to my island.” 

“Are you the little girl who owns this island? 
I’ve heard about you.” 

“Yes. But there ain’t much fun on an island 
if your friends aren’t on it, too. And Miss Jessie 
is one of my very dearest friends.” 

“I understand,” said the operator gravely, see¬ 
ing the little girl’s lip trembling. “You would 
like to have me reach your friend, Miss Jes¬ 

“Her name’s Norwood, too,” put in Henrietta, 
to make sure. 

the mysterious message 

Sh ' « the lawyer, Mr. Nor¬ 
wood s daughter. I have met her.” 

es, sir. She came here once ” 
possible?” 011 Wi8h '° S5 " d h " a “-•» it is 

to 1W S ' r ' 1 y0U shouId as k her to get 

to Boston as quick as she can and come back 

again. We would all like to have her come » said 
the httle girl, gravely. ’ Said 

and I^nw in ? t0 bC °" dUty mysdf this even ’ n g 
V try to get your message through,” said 

the operator kindly. “The Marigold, islt?” and 
si Vr , hook toward him in which the 

ports* eve „ J 7 . Saili ”« from A ™rica„ 

is listed 6 ° P fe Cr “ ft ’ * hat carries wireless, 

9n P, e ‘“ rned ar ° Und to his instrument right then 
and began to rap out the call for the yacht 

kept it up, off and on, between his other work all 
the evening. But no answer was returned 

this fa e ct Pe Knm r SOmewhat P»«Ied by 

S . f KnoW , m g h °w much interested in radio 
the gins were who had visited him, he could not 
un e„,a„d why rtey ^ w 

at^ome time or other on the yacht. 

He .kept throwing into the ether the signal 

S‘,° r t e «*» until almost mid- 

nef To " / " pec , te , d t0 be relieved V his part- 
watds tca ° r oc h there was some bother- 



some signals in the ether that annoyed him when¬ 
ever he took a message or relayed one in the course 
of the evening’s business. 

“Some amateur op. is interfering,” was his ex¬ 
pression. “But, I declare! it does sound some¬ 
thing like this station call. Can it be-?” 

He lengthened his spark and sent thundering 
out on the air-waves his usual reply: 

“I, I, OKW. I, I, OKW.” ' 

Then he held his hand and waited for any re¬ 
turn. The same mysterious, scraping sounds con¬ 
tinued. A slow hand, he believed, was trying to 
spell out some message in Morse. But it was 
being done in a very fumbling manner. 

Of course, half a dozen shore stations and per¬ 
haps half a hundred vessels might have caught the 
clumsy message, as well. But the operator at 
Station Island, interested by little Henrietta in 
the Marigold and her company, felt more than 
puzzlement over this strange communication out 
of the air. 

“Listen in here, Sammy,” he said to his mate, 
when the latter came in. “Is it just somebody s 
squeak-box making trouble to-night or am I hear¬ 
ing a sure-enough SOS? I wonder if there is a 
storm at sea ?” 

“There is,” said his mate, sitting down on the 
bench and taking up the secondary head harness. 

The evening papers are full of it Nnw-K*., * 
gale, and blowing like kildee right now.” 

men t ” St ° n gave n0 Particulars at last announce- 

usVthou, uslgte c h oVettLrs S °" eb ° dy ^ 

ator °‘%>f k !! 0W ’ Cn i maybe ’” said the ch[ ef oper- 
mi ne > ^ y ° U ^ et and ■<* if it is like 

The other did so. They compared notes TW 
Stonge se , b h operators” aetively^to 

Eastern Ad Tu SW ' ftIy t0 disW <>ute over the 
n Atlantic the news that a craft needed heir. 

m such and such a latitude and longitude The 

«her operator, without his hat, ran all Ae W av to 

D re wZX t0 S et e ustws N ° rWOOd and ^ 



J ESSIE NORWOOD was not tireless. It 
seemed to her as though her right arm would 
drop off, she pressed the key of the wireless 
instrument so frequently. They had written out 
a brief call of distress, and finally she got it by 
heart so that Amy did not have to read her the 
dots and dashes. 

But it was a slow process and they had no way 
of learning if the message was caught and under¬ 
stood by any operator, either ashore or on board 
a vessel. Hour after hour went slowly by. 1 he 
Marigold was sinking. The pumps could not 
keep up with the incoming water; the fuel was 
almost exhausted and the engines scarcely turned 
over; the buffeting seas threatened the craft every 

Dr. Stanley remained outwardly cheerful. 
Darry and the others took heart from the clergy¬ 
man’s w'ords. 

“Tell you what,” said Burd. “If we are wrecked 
on a desert island I shall be glad to have the doc¬ 
tor along. He’d have cheered up old Robinson 


Pomd'the'h'u"l"of W the d ] T 1 th ' !M continued W 
P'ople aboard, at least ^ ° Idcr 

young folks in the radl Z T a " !d °” S ' The 
although Jessie call d hemZ * ered '"“’h 

to handle the wireless than^f “ Iearnin S 
Darr r and Burd acknowledged ^“^“th 

ingly. 3re SOme girIsl " Dutry said, admir. 

‘‘Wa^toTeiareM’ hT Plain ' d B “ rd AIH "«- 

<<r\L • r . hat you say to them n 

Jess ^ 3 ^ PraiSC * " 

ness. Amy ’ S, g hln & weari- 

too uncerLn^The I*™ ^ 7^ SI " tuation was 
only occasional!y f r ZTi t* the gWa 

at the pumps T. 1, V ° Y had t0 tak ' ‘heir turn 
hut steady pumping kepTThe Xf £“« 
They e all thankful that L wild dec^d 
and the waves grew less boisterous. 

swells lifted ^7^7^77^717 tX thC 
motion that final, y became unplaslTNel, w ”a 



ill, below; but the others remained on deck and 
managed to weather the nauseating effects of the 
heaving sea. 

Meanwhile, as often as she could, Jessie Nor¬ 
wood sent out into the air the cry for assistance. 
She sent it addressed to “Station Island,” for she 
did not know that each wireless station had a code 
signal—a combination of letters. But she knew 
there was but one Station Island off the coast. 

The clapperty-clap, clapperty-clap of the pumps 
rasped their nerves at last until, as Amy declared, 
they needed to scream! When the sound stopped 
for the minute while pump-crews were changed, 
it was a relief. 

And finally the spark of the wireless began to 
skip and fall dead. Good reason! The storage 
batteries, although very good ones, were beginning 
to fail. Before daybreak it was impossible to use 
the sender any more. 

Somehow this fact was more depressing than 
anything that had previously happened. They 
could only hope, in any event, that their message 
had been heard and understood; but now even 
this sad attempt was halted. 

Jessie was really too tired to sleep. She and 
Amy did not go below for long. They changed 
their clothes and came on deck again and were 
very glad of the hot cup of coffee Dr. Stanley 
brought them from the galley. The cook had 



been Set to work on one of the p„ mp crews. 

acres, ,t ?n “ ‘ he deck chairs «ared off 
across the rolling gray waters. There was no 

cXrttT ° r VCS f 1 jUSt then ’ but a dim rose 

r at the sea line showed where the sun would 
come up after a time. d 

But a fog is blowing up from the south, too ” 
said Amy. See that cloud, Jess? My dear! 
Did you ever expect that we would be sitting here 
n Darry s yacht waiting for it to sink under us ?” 
How can you!” exclaimed Jessie, aghast. 

Well, that is practically what we are doing ” 
replied her chum. “Thank goodness I have had 

this cup of coffee, anyway. It braces me_’’ 

liven for drowning?” aske d Jessie. “Oh! 

What is that, Amy?” 

. a A b ° at ! Tt ’ S a boat! Ship ahoy!” 

neked Amy, jumping up and dancing about, 
dreppmg the cup and saucer tQ smash ^ 

.he“de 8 ck a aW mb ° atr D ™' 

SkinrwT P ^ ^? U Can ’ ^ ob commanded 

bkipper Pandrick to the helmsman. 

But before they could see what kind of craft 

he other was, the fog surrounded them. It 

wrapped the Marigold around in a thick mantle 

They couJd not see ten yards from her rail. 

U e don t even know if she is looking for us!” 



exclaimed Dr. Stanley. “That is too bad—too 

“Whistle for it,” urged Amy. “Can’t we?” 

“If we use the little steam left for the whistle, 
we will have to shut down the engines,” declared 
Darry. » 

“This is a fine yacht—I don’t think!” scoffed 
Burd Ailing. “And none of you knows a thing 
about rescuing this boat and crew but me. Watch 
me save the yacht.” 

He marched forward and began to work the 
foot-power foghorn vigorously. Its mournful 
note (not unlike a cow’s lowing, as Jessie had 
said) reverberated through the fog. Ihe sound 
must have carried miles upon miles. 

But it was nearly an hour before they heard any 
reply. Then the hoarse, brief blast of a tug 
whistle came to their ears. 

“Marigold, ahoy!” shouted a well-known voice 

across the heaving sea. 

“Daddy!” screamed Jessie, springing up and 
dropping her cup and saucer, likewise to utter 
ruin. “It’s Daddy Norwood!” 

The big tug wallowed nearer. She carried 
wireless, too, and the Marigold’s company be¬ 
lieved, at once, that Jessie’s message had been 
received, aboard the Poccihofit&s . 

“But— then—how did Daddy Norwood come 
aboard of her?” Jessie demanded. 

Tfi“ 20 

8,x Passengers WerT^ken ^ Whe ° th< 

f ! awsers We passed from the °“- d , .' he tu S anc 
‘ke very efficient Poc ahon ,„[ mkm « Wht to 

•ays to ft Wtow'ed” o port/' Sr S ° ' h ' Sk! . PPer 

Say!’ ejaculated Burd rryconi P J ained. 
? nd us at all and we were DaddI PP ° Se She didn>t 
boat and on the Jif e ra ft ^ 77 around ln that 
Permanent wave out of vn ^ WOuJd take the 
The girls, howler f an y dD ha L r - °! d *1” 

begged Mr. Norwood to ,^ r * StanIey 38 We]1 > 
w search of the MariaollfTu ^ he had co ™ 
Portunely. 9 ld and bad arrived so op- 

Nothing easier,” said th*. i 
operator at the I.Vh hr! ^ “ Wilen the 
message-»> ^ use station got your 

breakfngin 1 ^ ^ Y ° U dfd cried Amy, 

ber father. “Wel^T meSSage ’ Jessie?” asked 
operator came to the 1 ho” 1 Pr ° U j ° f you ' The 
though his partner was send' ^ ^ Al ‘ 
Predicament broadcast overth 8 ^ of your 

n * ht «d«. r o“ e „»rr7o^ 



hontas by an old fisherman who said he knew you 
girls* I believe he pronounced you ‘cleaners/ if 
you know what that means,” laughed the lawyer. 

“Henrietta, by the way, was doing incantations 
of some sort over the wind and weather when I 
left the bungalow. She said ‘Spotted Snake’ could 
bring you all safe home.” 

“Bless her heart!” exclaimed Jessie. 

That afternoon when the tug worked her way 
carefully into the dock near the bungalow colony 
on Station Island, Henrietta was the first person 
the returned wanderers saw on the shore to greet 
them. She was dancing up and down and scream¬ 
ing something that Jessie and Amy did not catch 
until they came off the gangplank. Then they 
made the incantation out to be: 

“That Ringold one can’t have my island—so 
now! The court says so, and Mr. Drew says so, 
too. He just got it off the telephone and he told 
me. It’s my island—so there!” 

“Why, how glad I am for you, dear!” cried 
Jessie, running to hug the excited little girl. 

“Come ashore! Come ashore! All of you!” 
cried Henrietta, with a wide gesture. “I invite 
all of you. This is my island, not that Ringold’s. 
You can come on it and do anything you like!” 

“Why, Henrietta!” murmured Jessie, as the 
other listeners broke into laughter. “You must 
not talk like that. I am glad the courts have given 

“—“- 3 

you your father’s prooertv R„f 

aether peop'e X *™ 



g!rl with 

be c/ d and ° k ^^ZL° k ru 
•*« Motvj? H tz»\t g ° ,d onc ’ and 

n°r polite,” admonished Jessie. “ ” 0t Pretty 

you^^ri^ MissJ “- Wh « 

It took some time, after they were at hnm P f 
-eryehmg t „ be talked over Ini all 1 “ystov 
f the radio message to be cleared up. The inter 

'ZrZT,' ^ * hC lighth °““ “me over to 

all l f ° n What She bad done • After 

name 1 r ° m ^ addressi ”g the station by 

stand A 7®"*? d n0t beea kard to under! 

the vichtwT 5 *!* f “ lt3r “"“taction of 
/ . 5 r wireless and the weakness of her bat 

enes, Jessie had done very well indeed 
and what ,t would cost to put in^roper engLts 



and calk and paint the hull, he was aghast and 
began to figure industriously. 

“Learning something, aren’t you, Son?” chuck¬ 
led Mr. Drew. “Your Uncle Will pretty near 
went broke keeping up the Marigold. But I will 
help you, for I am getting rather fond of the old 
craft, too.” 

“We all ought to help,” said Mr. Norwood. 
“I sha’n’t want you to scrap the boat, Darry, my 
boy. I like to think that it was my Jessie saved 
her from sinking—and saved you all. To my 
mind radio is a great thing—something more than 
a toy even for these boys and girls.” 

“Quite true,” Mr. Drew agreed. “When your 
Jessie and my Amy first strung those wires at 
Roselawn I thought they were well over it if they 
didn’t break their limbs before they got it finished. 
When we get back home I think Darry and I would 
better put up aerials and have a house-set, too. 
What say, Darry?” 

“I’m with you, Father,” agreed the young col¬ 
legian. “But I won’t agree to rival Jess and Amy 
as radio experts. For those two girls take the 




! 2 mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With colored jacket 

Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid 

May Hollis Barton is a new writer for girls 
who is bound to win instant popularity. Her 
style is somewhat of a mixture of that of 
Louise M. Alcott and Mrs. L. T. Meade, but 
thoroughly up-to-date in plot and action. 
Clean tales that all girls will enjoy reading. 


- 07 Laura Mayford's City Experiences 

ra Wa f °^ es 1 t ^ ve children and when daddy got sick she 

York 3 nH U l d ° S ?r thing - She had a chance to try her ffin New 
York, and there the country girl fell in with many unusual expel 


or The Mystery of the School by the Lake 
When the three chums arrived at the boarding school they found 
the other students in the grip of a most perplexing myste™ How 

schoSandTnTh 8 f°) ved ’ and wl ? at g° od times the girls had', both in 
school and on the lake, go to make a story no girl would care to miss. 


07 A City Girl in the Great West 

Showing how Nell, when she had a ranch girl visit her in Boston 
„ r ° u | g l 1 , t , 1( : r ve fy green, but when Nell visited the ranch in the 

Se w^toLl^ e - f0Und herS A confronting many conditions of which 
she was totally ignorant. A stirring outdoor story. 


or The Queer Old Lady Who Lost Her Way 

ends°m P el Ste nn ar 1 HT”® hous , e and f havin g trouble to make both 
° day t here ganders in from a stalled express train an 
ladv1n y anH°, cannot remember her identity. The girls take the old 
lady in, and, later, are much astonished to learn who she really is. 


or The Girl Who Won Out 

T he * aIe of two girls, one plain but sensible, the other pretty but 
woHH U S Ctedly b ° th - fi P d th , ey have to make their way in the 

rs,„sa h ,„ h rd,r y a " d a 

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12 mo. Cloth . Illustrated. Jacket in full colors 

Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid 


or The Queer Homestead at Cherry Corners 

Billie Bradley fell heir to an old homestead 
that was unoccupied and located far away in 
a lonely section of the country. How Billie 
went there, accompanied by some of her 
chums, and what queer things happened, go 
to make up a story no girl will want to miss. 


or Leading a Needed Rebellion 

Three-Towers Hall was a boarding school for girls. For a short 
time after Billie arrived there all went well. But then the head of 
the school had to go on a long journey and she left the girls in charge 
of two teachers, sisters, who believed in severe discipline and in very, 
very plain food and little of it—and then there was a row! The girls 
wired for the head to come back—and all ended happily. 


or The Mystery of the Wreck 

One of Billie’s friends owned a summer bungalow on Lighthouse 
Island, near the coast. The school girls made up a party and visited 
the Island. There was a storm and a wreck, and three little children 
were washed ashore. They could tell nothing of themselves, and 
Billie and her chums set to work to solve the mystery of their 


or The Secret of the Locked Tower 

Billie and her chums come to the rescue of several little children 
who have broken through the ice. There is the mystery of a lost 
invention, and also the dreaded mystery of the locked school tower. 


or Jolly Schoolgirls Afloat and Ashore 

A tale of outdoor adventure in which Billie and her chums have a 
great variety of adventures. They visit an artists colony and there 
fall in with a strange girl living with an old boatman who abuses her 
constantly. Billie befriended Hulda and the mystery surrounding 
the girl was finally cleared up. 

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Billie Bradley 


in Lakes 

Janet j 0 Ifheeler 


New York 



12mo ' illustrated. Jacket in full colors 

Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid 

Ruth Fielding was an orphan and came to 
live with her miserly unde. Her adventures 
and travels make stories that will hold the in¬ 
terest of every reader. 

Ruth Fielding is a character that will live 
in juvenile fiction. 























New York 



j2mo. Cloth . Illustrated . Jacket in full colors 

Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid 

A series of stories by Alice B . Emerson which 
are bound to make this writer more popular 
than ever with her host of girl readers . 


FARM or The Mystery of a Nobody 

At twelve Betty is left an orphan. 


or Strange Adventures in a Great City 
Betty goes to the National Capitol to find 
her uncle and has several unusual adventures. 


or The Farm That Was Worth a Fortune 
From Washington the scene is shifted to the great oil fields of 
our country. A splendid picture of the oil field operations of today. 


or The Treasure of Indian Chasm 
Seeking treasures of Indian Chasm makes Interesting reading. 


or The Mystery of Ida Bellethorne 
At Mountain Camp Betty found herself in the midst of a mystery 
involving a girl whom she had previously met in Washington. 


or School Chums on the Boardwalk 
A glorious outing that Betty and her chums never forgot. 


or Bringing the Rebels to Terms . 

Rebellious students, disliked teachers and mysterious robberies 
make a fascinating story. 


or Cowboy Joe's Secret 

Betty and her chums have a grand time in the saddle. 


or The Secret of the Mountains 

Betty receives a fake telegram and finds both Bob and herself hel 
for ransom in a mountain cave. 

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12 mo. Cloth . Illustrated. Jacket in full colors 

Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid 

This new series of girls* books is in a new 
style of story writing. The interest is in knowing 
the girls and seeing them solve the problems 
that develop their character. Incidentally , a 
great deal of historical information is imparted. 


or The Story of Nine Adventurous 

How the Linger-Not girls met and formed 
their club seems commonplace, but this 
writer makes it fascinating, and how they 
made their club serve a great purpose con¬ 
tinues the interest to the end, and introduces 
a new type of girlhood. 


or The Great West Point Chain 

The Linger-Not girls had no thought of becoming mixed up with 
feuds or mysteries, but their habit of being useful soon entangled 
them in some surprising adventures that turned out happily for all, 
and made the valley better because of their visit. 


or The Log of the Ocean Monarch 

For a club of girls to become involved in a mystery leading back 
into the times of the California gold-rush, seems unnatural until the 
reader sees how it happened, and how the girls helped one of their 
friends to come into her rightful name and inheritance, forms a fine 



or The Secret from Old Alaska 

Whether engrosse4 in thrilling adventures in the Far North or 
occupied with quiet home duties, the Linger-Not girls could work 
unitedly to solve a colorful mystery in a way that interpreted 
American freedom to a sad young stranger, and brought happiness 
to her and to themselves. 

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and ike 




7 ft*/ L 

ABk ^1) \ 





New York 



Author of the famous **Bedtime Animal Stories 99 

12 mo. Cloth . Illustrated. Jacket in full colors 

Price per volume , 65 cents , postpaid 


or Vacation Days in the Country 
A tale of happy vacation days on a farm. 


or Camping out with Grandpa 
The Curlytops were delighted when grandpa 
took them to camp on Star Island. 


or Grand Fun with Skates and Sleds 
The Curlytops, with their skates and sleds, 
on lakes and hills. 


or Little Folks on Ponyback 

Out West on their uncle’s ranch they have a wonderful time. 


or On the Water with Uncle Ben 
The Curlytops camp out on the shores of a beautiful lake. 


or Uncle Toby's Strange Collection 
An old uncle leaves them to care for his collection of pets. 


or Jolly Times Through the Holidays 
They have great times with their uncle’s collection of animals. 


or Fun at the Lumber Camp 
Exciting times in the forest for Curlytops. 


or What Was Found in the Sand 

The Curlytops have a fine time at the seashore, bathing, digging 
in the sand and pony-back riding. 


or The Missing Photograph Albums 

The Curlytops fall in with a moving picture company and get in 
some of the pictures. 

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12 mo. Cloth . Illustrated . Jacket in full colors 

Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid 

The highest ideals of girlhood as advocated 
oy the foremost organizations of America 
form the background for these stories and while 
unobtrusive there is a message in every volume « 


or Winning the First B. C. 

A story of the True Tred Troop in a Penn¬ 
sylvania town. Two runaway girls, who 
want to see the city, are reclaimed through 
troop influence. The story is correct in scout 


or Maid Mary's Awakening 

The story of a timid little maid who is afraid to take part in 
other girls' activities, while working nobly alone for high ideals. 
How she was discovered by the Beliaire Troop and came into her 
own as “Maid Mary" makes a fascinating story. 


or The Wig Wag Rescue 

Luna Land, a little island by the sea, is wrapt in a mysterious 
(seclusion, and Kitty Scuttle, a grotesque figure, succeeds in keeping 
all others at bay until the Girl Scouts come. 


or Peg of Tamarack Hills 

The girls of Bobolink Troop spend their summer on the shores of 
Lake Hocomo. Their discovery of Peg, the mysterious rider, and 
the clearing up of her remarkable adventures afford a vigorous'plot. 


or Nora's Real Vacation 

Nora Blair is the pampered daughter of a frivolous mother. Her 
dislike for the rugged life of Girl Scouts is eventually changed to 
appreciation, when the rescue of little Lucia, a woodland waif, 
becomes a problem for the girls to solve. 

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12 mo. Cloth . Illustrated . Jacket in full colors 

Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid 

A new and up-to-date series', taking in the 
activities of several bright girls who become 
interested in radio . The stories tell of thrilling 
exploits, out-door life and the great part the 
Radio plays in the adventures of the girls and 
in solving their mysteries . Fascinating books 
that girls of all ages will want to read . 


or A Strange Message from the A -a 
Showing how Jessie Norwood and her 
chums became interested in radiophoning, 
how they gave a concert for a worthy local 
charity, and how they received a sudden and 
unexpected call for help out of the air. A girl wanted as witness in a 
celebrated law case disappears, and the radio girls go to the rescue. 


or Singing and Reciting at the Sending Station 
When listening in on a thrilling recitation. or a superb concert 
number who of us has not longed to “look behind the scenes” to see 
how it was done? The girls had made the acquaintance of a sending 
station manager and in this volume are permitted to get on the pro¬ 
gram, much to their delight. A tale full of action and fun. 


or The Wireless from the Steam Yacht 
In this volume the girls travel to the seashore and put in a vacation 
on an island where is located a big radio sending station. The big 
brother of one of the girls owns a steam yacht and while out with a 
pleasure party those on the island receive word by radio that the 
yacht is on fire. A tale thrilling to the last page. 


or The Strange Hut in the Swatnp 
The Radio Girls spend several weeks on the shores of a beautiful 
lake and with their radio get news of a great forest fire. It also aids 
them in rounding up some undesirable folks who occupy the strange 
hut in the swamp. 

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