THE REHEARSAL
While the girls of Roselawn and their friends found a dozen vacation
activities to interest them, the hospital fund committee did not
mark time. Mrs. Norwood was away from home almost every afternoon
attending meetings and arranging for talent for the great radio
concert. Her mother’s absence put upon Jessie’s mind certain
responsibilities relating to the household that she usually did not
have.
But Jessie was a born housewife. Flyaway Amy knew very little about
such things, and she admitted that she dodged all responsibilities of
the kind when she could. She preferred to sit on the Norwood porch
and knit or read or chat with other girls gathered there while her
chum busied herself with these extra duties.
Whenever Jessie was at the radio set, however, Amy was on the spot.
During these weeks since first the receiving set had been established
in Jessie’s sitting room, the chums had learned a great deal about
radio telephony.
“And according to these books and magazines, Jess,” Amy said, “there
is going to be something new to learn every day. I don’t see but we
shall have to give up almost everything else, if we expect to keep up
to date in this science.”
“I suppose there’s bound to be new wrinkles to learn all the time,”
admitted Jessie. “But we have got a lot of information about the
receiving end of the business. What I am anxious to learn is more
about the other end.”
“The sending end?” asked Amy.
“Yes. We did not see much of it that time Mark took us up to the
Stratford Company’s sending station, where we met Mr. Blair.”
“Say, Jess!” Amy said suddenly. “Isn’t that funny?”
“Maybe it is. Only I don’t know what you mean,” said her chum,
wonderingly.
“That Superintendent Blair’s name should be the same as Hen’s cousin?”
“What are you saying, Amy?” demanded Jessie in amazement. “Why,
Henrietta’s cousin’s name is Bertha——”
“Bertha Blair—yes!” Then Amy giggled. “I mean his last name. Blair.”
“Well, that has nothing to do with our knowledge of the sending end
of radio telephony,” said Jessie, with some impatience. “We saw the
soundproof rooms, and the heavy curtains they draw about the glass
walls to deaden all exterior noises, and the transmitter horns
into which the performers spoke or sang. But a lot of it I didn’t
understand.”
“Neither did I understand it,” confessed her friend.
“I have been reading up on that one at Stratfordtown. It really is a
wonderfully powerful transmission set. Think of it! A five hundred
watt, three to six hundred meter broadcasting set. And with it
they use an amplifier that magnifies the voice a hundred thousand
times—and that without producing any distortion.”
“Humph!” grumbled Amy. “Then when Belle Ringold sings with that
chorus it isn’t going to sound much worse than usual, is it?”
“Don’t talk that way. She and Sally are mad enough at us because of
the other night,” said Jessie.
“My telling you what I think of the quality of her singing voice
isn’t going to make Belle any madder,” chuckled Amy. “But Darry says
she won’t speak to him now—nor to Burd Alling. Of course, they are
terribly unhappy about it,” grinned Amy.
“Sally and Belle are awfully busy about something,” Jessie said
reflectively. “Nell Stanley told me that there is something new
afoot. Mrs. Ringold was offended the other day at the meeting of the
hospital committee. She came to Doctor Stanley with a long tale of
woe. But you know how the doctor is. Nell said he refused to take
sides. The hospital is something bigger than a church interest, and
he told Belle’s mother so.”
“I hope she isn’t planning to do anything to hurt the hospital
concert,” said Amy quickly.
“Oh, I don’t know that she would do that; but she is a good deal like
Belle—a trouble maker.”
“We certainly have found that out about her daughter,” laughed Amy.
“And when is the crowd to go over to Stratfordtown to rehearse?”
“In the morning. Miss Allister has had a lot of trouble with the
chorus. That’s another stir-up,” sighed Jessie.
“They need not worry about me,” said Amy with conviction. “I am
letter perfect in my recitation. I’m not scared a bit. When I stand
up before the audience—Oh, honey! There will not be any audience,
will there?” and she ended with a laugh.
“Not much of one, I guess,” said Jessie. “It must be like playing in
the movies. There is no inspiration of applause. But I expect for the
rehearsal to-morrow half the people who own motor-cars in New Melford
and Roselawn will sail over to Stratfordtown. It will look like
circus day over there.”
“Jess, you hit it right,” her chum said, when the Norwoods’ big
car, driven by Chapman, was parked in one of the lanes beside the
Electric Company’s stockade at ten o’clock the next forenoon. “It
does seem as though there must be a street fair in the town, or
something of the kind.”
The radio girls of Roselawn had been up to the sending station on a
previous occasion, so they could take “Momsy” right along with them.
They knew the location of the elevators. Neither Mark nor his father
was present, but Mr. Blair, the radio superintendent, remembered the
chums and addressed them as they stepped out of the elevator with
Mrs. Norwood.
“Just a moment and I will be with you, young ladies,” he said, in his
rather brusk way.
He was talking with a girl whose back was toward the newcomers;
but when the latter had moved away from the elevator Amy suddenly
squeezed her chum’s arm to draw her attention.
“Isn’t that Bertha, little Hen’s cousin?” asked Amy in a whisper.
“Of course it is,” said Jessie, gladly. “Wait! I’ll get a chance to
speak with her.”
“Do you suppose she is trying to get on the program, too?” asked Amy,
in surprise.
“It may be. They pay a small fee I believe to those who really are
able to render an interesting number. Didn’t little Henrietta say
that Bertha could sing?”
“Of course she did. There! Will you speak to Bertha?”
Jessie was ready to do just that. She saw Mr. Blair turn from the
plainly dressed girl with some hesitancy. As though his gaze was held
against his will the superintendent stood looking after her.
“Why, Bertha!” Jessie exclaimed, meeting Henrietta’s cousin with
outstretched hand. “How glad I am to see you again. Father would like
to see you, too. Especially if you find yourself in need at all,” and
she smiled at the girl.
“Oh! Is it you, Miss Jessie? I have a place in Stratfordtown here.
But they told me that I might earn a little extra here evenings by
singing. And I would like to make enough to have little Henrietta
with me.”
“Why, I know Daddy Norwood feels so grateful to you for helping him
in the Ellison case that he would gladly do something for you and
Henrietta. We have already talked about it.”
“But I could not take anything in payment for telling the truth in
court,” declared the other girl hastily. “You know, that would not be
right.”
“We-ell,” said Jessie hesitatingly. “Perhaps not. I am afraid you are
a wee bit proud, Bertha.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Bertha. “I was taught pretty good. My father came
of good folks, and mother’s people were nice, if they were poor.
Mrs. Foley tells me I’ve a lot of folderols in my head where my
brains ought to be,” and she laughed gently.
“Did you get the chance to sing, Bertha?” asked Jessie suddenly.
“Not just now, the gentleman said. But he said I might come again and
he would try me out at rehearsal.”
She turned away with a bright smile and nod. But Jessie asked another
question:
“Did you tell him your name, Bertha?”
“He did not ask me, Miss Jessie.”
Jessie swung about to see Mr. Blair talking to her mother. But
although he was busily engaged with the Roselawn lady, the
superintendent’s gaze followed Bertha to the elevator, and that not
idly. But the girl disappeared without the superintendent’s speaking
again to her.
Most of the professionals were already at the station, and the
orchestra as well. Having sung and played for broadcasting before,
Mr. Blair considered that they might rehearse in one of the smaller
soundproof rooms without much attention on his part.
But to show the amateurs what to do and how to do it was an entirely
different matter. The girls’ chorus trained by the New Melford high
school singing teacher was the number which threatened the most
trouble. There were nearly thirty girls in the chorus, and now that
school was over some of them were not very amenable to discipline.
Belle Ringold made considerable trouble for Miss Allister and delayed
the rehearsal while she told, tossing her head, just how she thought
the songs should be sung.
Mr. Blair was a brusk man and he stood for very little of this.
“If that girl is not amenable to discipline, Miss Allister, excuse
her from your chorus. We cannot be delayed. Mr. Stratford himself
and the ladies of the committee are downstairs listening in on this
rehearsal. If it is not soon perfect I am afraid we will have to
substitute something else for your chorus.”
Most of the other girls were excited by this threat, and they
promised to be careful. But Belle and Sally Moon pouted and shuffled
their feet, and otherwise behave like naughty children instead of
like high school young women. Miss Allister tried to hide their
impoliteness; she knew them well. It was evident, however, that the
rehearsal was going badly and that Mr. Blair was disappointed.
Jessie and Amy stood by anxiously, awaiting their turn to sing and
recite. It was very warm in the sending room, although some attempt
had been made to ventilate it. But the heavy curtains hung all about
kept out the air as well as keeping in the sounds.
The singers faced a battery of receiving horns. The sound amplifiers
were out of sight. Indeed, there was little mechanism to disturb
the attention of the performers. The girls should have sung just as
easily and nicely as they did in the school audience hall.
But the rehearsal continued to go badly. Jessie got as nervous as
though she had been one of the chorus herself. And this was bad for
her; for soon, she knew, she would be called upon to sing her own
short ballad.