The Campfire Girls of Roselawn: or, a Strange Message from the Air

“I am sure they are going to use my idea,” Belle Ringold said, with a toss of her bobbed curls.

Did we introduce you to Belle? By this speech you may know she was a very confident person, not easily persuaded that her own way was not always best. She not only had her hair bobbed in the approved manner of that season, but her mother was ill-advised enough to allow her to wear long, dangling earrings, and she favored a manner of walking (when she did not forget) that Burd Alling called “the serpentine slink.” Belle thought she was wholly grown up.

“They couldn’t throw out my idea,” repeated Belle.

“What is it, Belle, honey?” asked one of her chums.

“She can’t tell,” put in Amy, who was present. “That is one of the rules.”

“Pooh!” scoffed Belle. “Guess I’ll tell if I want to. That won’t invalidate my chances. They will be only too glad to use my idea.”

“Dear me,” drawled Amy, laughing. “You’re just as sure as sure, aren’t you?”

Miss Seymour, the girls’ English teacher in school, came to the door of the committee room with a paper in her hand. A semblance of order immediately fell upon the company.

“We have just now decided upon the two suggestions of all those placed in the box, the two prize ideas. And both are very good, I must say. Chippendale Truro! Is Chip here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Chip, who was a snub-nosed boy whose chums declared “all his brains were in his head.”

“Chip, I think your idea is very good. You will be interested to learn what it is, girls. Chip suggests that all the waitresses and saleswomen at the lawn party wear masks – little black masks as one does at a masquerade party. That will make them stand out from the guests. And the committee are pleased with the idea. Chip gets the tennis racket in Mr. Brill’s show-window.”

“Cricky, Chip! how did you come to think of that?” demanded one of the boys in an undertone.

“Well, they are going to be regular road-agents, aren’t they?” asked the snub-nosed boy. “They take everything you have in your pockets at those fairs. They ought to wear masks – and carry guns, too. Only I didn’t dare suggest the guns.”

Amid the muffled explosion of laughter following this statement, Miss Seymour began speaking again:

“The girl’s prize – the sports coat at Letterblair’s – goes to Jessie Norwood, on whose father’s lawn the bazaar is to be held on the afternoon and evening of the Fourth of July.”

At this announcement Belle Ringold actually cried out: “What’s that?”

“Hush!” commanded Miss Seymour. “Jessie has suggested that a tent be erected – her father has one stored in his garage – and that her radio set be placed in the tent and re-connected. With an amplifier the concerts broadcasted from several stations can be heard inside the tent, and we will charge admission to the tent. Radio is a new and novel form of amusement and, the committee thinks, will attract a large patronage. The coat is yours, Jessie.”

“Well, isn’t that the meanest thing!” ejaculated Belle Ringold.

“Did I hear you say something, Belle?” demanded Miss Seymour, in her very sternest way.

“Well, I want to say–”

“Don’t say it,” advised the teacher. “The decisions upon the prize ideas are arbitrary. The committee is responsible for its acts, and must decide upon all such matters. The affair is closed,” and she went back into the committee room and closed the door.

“Well, isn’t she the mean thing!” exclaimed one of those girls who liked to stand well with Belle Ringold.

“I am sure your idea was as good as good could be, Belle,” Jessie said. “Only I happened to have the radio set, and – and everything is rigged right for my idea to work out.”

“Oh, I can see that it was rigged right,” snapped Belle. “Your mother is on the committee, and the lawn party is going to be at your house. Oh, yes! No favoritism shown, of course.”

“Oh, cat’s foot!” exclaimed Amy, linking her arm in Jessie’s. “Let her splutter, Jess. We’ll go to the Dainties Shop and have a George Washington sundae.”

“I am afraid Belle is going to be very unpleasant about this thing,” sighed Jessie, as she and her chum came out of the parish house.

“As usual,” commented Amy. “Why should we care?”

“I hate to have unpleasant things happen.”

“Think of the new coat,” laughed Amy. “And I do think you were awfully smart to think of using your radio in that way. Lots of people, do you know, don’t believe it can be so. They think it is make-believe.”

“How can they, when wireless telegraphy has been known so long?”

“But, after all, this is something different,” Amy said. “Hearing voices right out of the air! Well, you know, Jess, I said before, I thought it was sort of spooky.”

“Ha, ha!” giggled her chum. “All the spooks you know anything about personally are blacksnakes. Don’t forget that.”

“And how brave that little Hen was,” sighed Amy, as they sat down to the round glass table in the Dainties Shop. “I never saw such a child.”

“I was trying to get daddy interested in her and in her lost cousin – if that was her cousin whom we saw carried off,” Jessie returned. “Come to think of it, I didn’t get very far with my story. I must talk to daddy again. But Momsy says he is much troubled over a case he has on his hands, an important case, and I suppose he hasn’t time for our small affairs.”

“I imagine that girl who was kidnaped doesn’t think hers is a small affair,” observed Amy Drew, dipping her spoon into the rich concoction that had been placed before her. “Oh, yum, yum! Isn’t this good, Jess?”

“Scrumptious. By the way, who is going to pay for it?”

“Oh, my! Haven’t you any money?” demanded Amy.

“We-ell, you suggested this treat.”

“But you should stand it. You won the prize coat,” giggled Amy.

“I never saw the like of you!” exclaimed Jessie. “And you say I am not fit to carry money, and all. Have you actually got me in here without being able to pay for this cream?”

“But haven’t you any money?” cried Amy.

“Not one cent. I shall have to hurry back to the parish house and beg some of Momsy.”

“And leave me here?” demanded Amy. “Never!”

“How will you fix it, then?” asked Jessie, who was really disturbed and could not enjoy her sundae.

“Oh, don’t let that nice treat go to waste, Jess.”

“It does not taste nice to me if we can’t pay for it.”

“Don’t be foolish. Leave it to me,” said Amy, getting on her feet. “I’ll speak to the clerk. He’s nice looking and wears his hair slicked back like patent leather. Lo-o-vely hair.”

“Amy Drew! Behave!”

“I am. I am behaving right up, I tell you. I am sure I can make that clerk chalk the amount down until we come in again.”

“I would be shamed to death,” Jessie declared, her face flushing almost angrily, for sometimes Amy did try her. “I will not hear of your doing that. You sit down here and wait till I run back to the church–”

“Oh, you won’t have to,” interrupted Amy. “Here come some of the girls. We can borrow–”

But the girl who headed the little group just then entering the door of the Dainties Shop was Belle Ringold. The three who followed Belle were her particular friends. Jessie did not feel that she wanted to borrow money of Belle or her friends.

CHAPTER XII

THE GLORIOUS FOURTH

“Never mind,” whispered Amy Drew quickly, quite understanding her chum’s feelings regarding Belle and her group. “I’ll ask them. It’s my fault, anyway. And I only meant it for a joke–”

“A pretty poor joke, Amy,” Jessie said, with some sharpness. “And I don’t want you to borrow of them. I’ll run back to the church.”

She started to leave the Dainties Shop. Sally Moon, who was just behind Belle Ringold, halted Jessie with a firm grasp on her sleeve.

“Don’t run away just because we came in, Jess,” she said.

“I’m coming right back,” Jessie Norwood explained. “Don’t keep me.”

“Where you going, Jess?” drawled another of the group.

“I’ve got to run back to the church to speak to mother for a moment.”

“Your mother’s not there,” broke in Belle. “She was leaving in her flivver when we came away. The committee’s broken up and the parish house door is locked.”

“Oh, no!” murmured Jessie, a good deal appalled.

“Don’t I tell you yes?” snapped Belle. “Don’t you believe me?”

“Of course I believe what you say, Belle,” Jessie rejoined politely. “I only said ‘Oh, no!’ because I was startled.”

“What scared you?” demanded Belle, curiously.

“Why, I – I’m not scared–”

“It is none of your business, Belle Ringold,” put in Amy. “Don’t annoy her. Here, Jessie, I’ll–”

The clerk who waited on them had come to the table and placed a punched ticket for the sundaes on it. He evidently expected to be paid by the two girls. The other four were noisily grouping themselves about another table. Belle Ringold said:

“Give Nick your orders, girls. This is on me. I want a banana royal, Nick. Hurry up.”

The young fellow with the “patent leather” hair still lingered by the table where Jessie and Amy had sat. Belle turned around to stare at the two guilty-looking chums. She sneered.

“What’s the matter with you and Jess, Amy Drew? Were you trying to slip out without paying Nick? I shouldn’t wonder!”

“Oh!” gasped Jessie, flushing and then paling.

But Amy burst out laughing. It was a fact that Amy Drew often saw humor where her chum could not spy anything in the least laughable. With the clerk waiting and these four girls, more than a little unfriendly, ready to make unkind remarks if they but knew the truth–

What should she do? Jessie looked around wildly. Amy clung to a chair and laughed, and laughed. Her chum desired greatly to have the floor of the New Melford Dainties Shop open at her feet and swallow her!

“What’s the matter with you, Amy Drew? You crazy?” demanded Belle.

“I – I–” Amy could get no farther. She weaved back and forth, utterly hysterical.

“If you young ladies will pay me, please,” stammered the clerk, wondering. “I’d like to wait on these other customers.”

“I want my banana royal, Nick,” cried Belle.

The other three girls gave their orders. The clerk looked from the laughing Amy to the trembling Jessie. He was about to reiterate his demand for payment.

And just then Heaven sent an angel! Two, in very truth! At least, so it seemed to Jessie Norwood.

“Darry!” she almost squealed. “And Burd Alling! We – we thought you were at Atlantic Highlands.”

The two young fellows came hurrying into the shop. They had evidently seen the girls from outside. Darry grabbed his sister and sat her down at a table. He grinned widely, bowing to Belle and her crowd.

“Come on, Jessie!” he commanded. “No matter how many George Washington sundaes you kids have eaten–”

“‘Kids’! Indeed! I like that!” exploded Amy.

But her brother swept on, ignoring her objection: “No matter how many you have eaten, there is always room for one more. You and Amy, Jessie, must have another sundae on me.”

“Darry!” exclaimed Jessie Norwood. “I thought you and Burd went to his aunt’s.”

“And we came back. That is an awful place. There’s an uncle, too – a second crop uncle. And both uncle and auntie are vegetarians, or something. Maybe it’s their religion. Anyway, they eat like horses – oats, and barley, and chopped straw. We were there for two meals. Shall we ever catch up on our regular rations, Burd?”

“I’ve my doubts,” said his friend. “Say, Nick, bring me a plate of the fillingest thing there is on your bill of fare.”

“In just a minute,” replied the clerk, hopping around the other table to have Belle Ringold and her friends repeat their orders.

Belle had immediately begun preening when Darry and Burd came in. That the two college youths were so much older, and that they merely considered Amy and Jessie “kids,” made no difference to Belle. She really thought that she was quite grown up and that college men should be interested in her.

“We had just finished, boys,” Jessie managed to say in a low tone. “We had not even paid for our sundaes.”

Darry and Burd just then caught sight of the punched check lying on the table and they both reached for it. There was some little rivalry over who should pay the score, but Darry won.

“Leave it to me,” he said cheerfully. “Girls shouldn’t be trusted with money anyway.”

“Oh! Oh!” gurgled Amy, choked with laughter again.

“What’s the matter with you, Sis?” demanded her brother.

Jessie forbade her chum to tell, by a hard stare and a determined shake of her head. It was all right to have Darry pay the check – it was really a relief – but it did not seem to Jessie as though she could endure having the matter made an open joke of.

The four settled about the little table. But the Ringold crowd was too near. Belle turned sideways in her chair, even before they were served, and, being at Darry’s elbow, insisted upon talking to him.

“Talk about my aunt!” said Burd Alling, grinning. “I’ll tell the world that somebody has a crush on Sir Galahad that’s as plain to be seen as a wart on the nose of Venus.”

“Of all the metaphors!” exclaimed Amy.

Jessie feared that Belle would overhear the comments of Burd and her chum, and she hurried the eating of her second sundae.

“I must get home, Darry,” she explained. “Momsy has gone without me in her car and will be surprised not to find me there.”

“Sure,” agreed Burd quickly. “We’ll gobble and hobble. Can’t you tear yourself away, Darry?” he added, with a wicked grin.

Amy’s brother tried politely to turn away from Belle. But the latter caught him by the coat sleeve and held on while she chattered like a magpie to the young college man. She smiled and shook her bobbed curls and altogether acted in a rather ridiculous way.

Darry looked foolish, then annoyed. His sister was in an ecstasy of delight. She enjoyed her big brother’s annoyance. She and Jessie and Burd had finished their cream.

“Come on, Darry,” Burd drawled, taking a hint from the girls. “Sorry you are off your feed and can’t finish George Washington’s finest product. I’ll eat it for you, if you say so, and then we’ll beat it.”

He reached casually for Darry’s plate; but the latter would not yield it without a struggle. The incident, however, gave Darry a chance to break away from the insistent Belle. The latter stared at the two girls at Darry’s table, sniffed, and tossed her head.

“Yes, Mr. Drew,” she said in her high-pitched voice, “I suppose you have to take the children home in good season, or they would be chastised.”

“Ouch!” exclaimed Burd. “I bet that hurt you, Amy.”

Darry had picked up both checks from the table. Belle smiled up at him and moved her check to the edge of her table as Darry rather grimly bade her good-night. He refused to see that check, but strode over to the desk to pay the others.

“That girl ought to get a job at a broadcasting station,” growled out Darry, as they went out upon the street. “I never knew before she was such a chatterbox. Don’t need any radio rigging at all where she is.”

“Oh, wouldn’t it be fun to get a chance to work at a broadcasting station?” Amy cried. “We could sing, Jess. You know we sing well together. ‘The Dartmoor Boy’ and ‘Bobolink, Bobolink, Spink-spank-spink’ and–”

“And ‘My Old Kentucky Blues,’” broke in Burd Alling. “If you are going to broadcast anything like that, give us something up to date.”

“You hush,” Amy said. “If Jess and I ever get the chance we shall be an honor to the program. You’ll see.”

That the two young fellows had returned so much earlier than had been expected was a very fortunate thing, Jessie and Amy thought. For their assistance was positively needed in the work of making ready for the Fourth of July bazaar on the Norwood place, they declared.

There were only three days in which to do everything. “And believe me,” groaned Burd before the first day was ended, “we’re doing everything. Talk about being in training for the scrub team!”

“It will do you good, Burdie,” cooed Amy, knowing that the diminutive of Burd Alling’s name would fret him. “You are getting awfully plump, you know you are.”

“I feel it peeling off,” he grumbled. “Don’t fear. No fellow will ever get too fat around you two girls. Never were two such young Simon Legrees before since the world began!”

But the four accomplished wonders. Of course the committee and their assistants and some of the other young people came to help with the decorations. But the two girls and Amy’s older brother and his friend set up the marquees and strung the Japanese lanterns, in each of which was a tiny electric light.

“No candle-power fire-traps for us,” Jessie said. “And then, candles are always blowing out.”

About all the relaxation they had during the time until the eve of the Fourth was in Jessie’s room, listening to the radio concerts. Mr. Norwood brought out from the city a two-step amplifier and a horn and they were attached to the instrument.

The third of the month, with the help of the men servants on the Norwood place, the tent for the radio concert was set up between the house and the driveway, and chairs were brought from the parish house to seat a hundred people. It was a good tent, and there were hangings which had been used in some church entertainment in the past to help make it sound proof.

They strung through it a few electric bulbs, which would give light enough. And the lead wire from the aerials, well grounded, was brought directly in from overhead and connected with the radio set.

“I hope that people will patronize the tent generously,” Jessie said. “We can give a show every hour while the crowd is here.”

“What are you going to charge for admission?” Amy asked.

“Momsy says we ought to get a quarter. But ten cents–”

“Ten cents for children, grown folks a quarter,” suggested Amy. “The kids will keep coming back, but the grown folks will come only once.”

“That is an idea,” agreed Jessie. “But what bothers me is the fact that there are only concerts at certain times. We ought to begin giving the shows early in the afternoon. Of course, the radio is just as wonderful when it brings weather reports and agricultural prices as when Toscanini sings or Volburg plays the violin,” and she laughed. “But–”

“I’ve got it!” cried her chum, with sudden animation. “Give lectures.”

“What! You, Amy Drew, suggesting such a horrid thing? And who will give the lecture?”

“Oh, this is a different sort of lecture. Tell a little story about the radio, what has already been done with it, and what is expected of it in the future. I believe you could do it nicely, Jess. That sort of lecture I would stand for myself.”

“I suppose somebody has got to attend to the radio and talk about it. I had not thought of that,” agreed Jessie. “I’ll see what the committee say. But me lecture? I never did think of doing that!” she proclaimed, in no little anxiety.

CHAPTER XIII

THE BAZAAR

When she had talked it over with Momsy and Miss Seymour, however, Jessie Norwood took up the thought of the radio lecture quite seriously. Somebody must explain and manage the entertainment in the radio tent, and who better than Jessie?

“It is quite wonderful how much you young people have learned about radio – so much more than I had any idea,” said the school teacher. “Of course you can write a little prose essay, Jessie, get it by heart, and repeat it at each session in the tent, if you feel timid about giving an off-hand talk on the subject.”

“You can do it if you only think you can, Jessie,” said her mother, smiling. “I am sure I have a very smart daughter.”

“Oh, now, Momsy! If they should laugh at me–”

“Don’t give them a chance to laugh, dear. Make your talk so interesting and informative that they can’t laugh.”

Thus encouraged, Jessie spent all the forenoon of the Fourth shut up in her own room making ready for the afternoon and evening. She had already made a careful schedule of the broadcasting done by all the stations within reach of her fine radio set, and found that it was possible, by tuning her instrument to the wave lengths of different stations, to get something interesting into every hour from two o’clock on until eleven.

Naturally, some of the entertainments would be more interesting or amusing than others; but as New Melford people for the most part were as yet unfamiliar with radio, almost anything out of the air would seem curious and entertaining.

“Besides,” Burd Alling said in comment on this, “for a good cause we are all ready and willing to be bunkoed a little.”

“Let me tell you, Mr. Smarty,” said Amy, “that Jessie’s lecture is well worth the price of admission alone. Never mind the radio entertainment.”

“I’ll come to hear it every time,” agreed Burd. “You can’t scare me!”

The radio had been carefully tried out in the tent the evening before. The boys had got the market reports and the early baseball scores out of the air on Fourth of July morning, before the bazaar opened. When Jessie came out after luncheon to take charge of the radio tent, she felt that she was letter perfect in the “talk” she had arranged to introduce each session of the wireless entertainment.

No admission was charged to the Norwood grounds; but several of the older boys had been instructed to keep an oversight of the entire place that careless and possibly rough youngsters should do no harm. The Norwoods’, like the Drews’ was one of the show places of the Roselawn section of New Melford. Boys and girls might do considerable harm around the place if they were not under discipline.

The girls and boys belonging to the congregation of Dr. Stanley’s church were on hand as flower sellers, booth attendants, and waitresses. Ice-creams and sherbets were served from the garage; sandwiches and cake from the house kitchen, where Mrs. Norwood’s cook herself presided proudly over the goodies.

In several booths were orangeade, lemonade, and other soft drinks. The fancy costumes and the funny masks the girls and boys wore certainly were “fetching.” That the masks were the result of a joke on Chip Truro’s part made them none the less effective.

Amy was flying about, as busy as a bee. Darry and Burd were at the head of the “police.” Miss Seymour took tickets for the radio tent, and after the first entertainment, beginning at two o’clock, she complimented Jessie warmly on the success of her talk on radio with which the girl introduced the show.

The lawns of the Norwood place began to be crowded before two o’clock. Cars were parked for several blocks in both directions. Special policemen had been sent out from town to patrol the vicinity. Dr. Stanley’s smile, as he walked about welcoming the guests, expanded to an almost unbelievable breadth.

The noisy and explosive Fourth as it used to be is now scarcely known. Our forefathers did not realize that freedom could be celebrated without guns and firecrackers and the more or less smelly and dangerous burning of powder.

“Now,” stated Burd Alling pompously, “we celebrate the name of the Father of his Country with a dish of fruit ice-cream. How are the mighty fallen! A George Washington sundae, please, with plenty of ‘sundae’ on it. Thank you!”

Then he gave up twice the price that he would have had to pay at the Dainties Shop down town for the same concoction to the young lady in the Columbine skirt and the mask.

“Young Truro had it right,” grumbled Darry. “It’s a hold-up.”

“But you know you like to be robbed for a good cause,” chuckled Amy, who chanced to hear these comments. “And remember that Doctor Stanley is going to get his share out of this.”

“Right-o,” agreed Burd. “The doctor is all right.”

“But we ought to pony up the money for his support like good sports,” said Darry, continuing to growl.

“You’d better ask him about that,” cried Amy. “Do you know what the dear doctor says? He is glad, he says, to know that so many people who never would by any chance come to hear him preach give something to the support of the church. They are in touch with the church and with him on an occasion like this, when by no other means could they be made to interest themselves in our church save to look at the clock face in the tower as they go past.”

“Guess he’s right there,” said Burd. “I reckon there are some men on the boulevard whose only religious act is to set their watches by the church clock as they ride by to town in their automobiles.”

However and whatever (to quote Amy again), the intentions were that brought the crowd, the Norwood place was comfortably filled. The goodies were bought, the sale of fancy goods added much to the treasury, and a bigger thing than any other source of income was the admission to the radio shows.