THE TIME OF THEIR LIVES
Doctor Dale heard their shout and waited with his genial smile till
the four boys came panting up to him.
"We've got a sort of idea, Doctor Dale," explained Bob, stammering in
his eagerness. "And--and we would like to speak to you about it if
you have time."
"I can always spare some for you boys," the doctor assured him
heartily. "Come on in, fellows, and let's hear about this idea.
Something connected with radio, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir," answered Bob, as Doctor Dale opened the parsonage door
and the boys crowded eagerly after him into the cozy study.
The doctor listened with interest while Bob outlined the plan to him,
assisted by frequent interruptions from the other boys.
And if the chums had expected enthusiasm from this good friend of
theirs, they were certainly not disappointed. The doctor was jubilant
over the idea and readily consented to giving his time unreservedly
for the purpose of making the affair a great success.
They set the date of the concert for the next day, which was
Saturday, and added the names of several others to the list of those
to be invited. A few minutes later the minister's callers departed
gleefully, a warmer feeling than ever in their hearts for Doctor
Amory Dale.
"You've got the right idea, boys," the latter called after them,
standing at the top of the steps to see them off. "Give happiness
to others and you will find true happiness for yourselves."
So far everything had gone swimmingly, and when the next morning
the boys arose to find the sun shining brightly they thought that
the fates had been almost too good to them.
"Something sure will happen before night," Jimmy muttered gloomily,
as he made his way down to the dining room, from which issued a
tempting aroma of bacon. "It's all too good to be true." But then,
Jimmy always did feel grumpy before breakfast.
The boys each found his own family as enthusiastic as Doctor Dale
had been about the great plan, and Bob's mother even hugged him
impulsively as she passed behind his chair. Bob was almost ashamed
of the happiness that welled in his heart. Of course a fellow of
fifteen was too big to be hugged as a general thing, but, somehow,
one's mother was different.
After breakfast he started down town to see about the jitney, met
Joe on the way, and the two boys went on together, talking excitedly
of their preparations.
"Dad says I can have the big car and the garage man will run it,"
Joe informed him gleefully. "Gee, I was never so surprised in my
life. All he said was 'take it, my son, and Heaven grant you never
want it for a worse purpose.' Great old sport, dad is."
"Gee, that's great," said Bob. "Now if we can only find some old bus
that looks as if it will stand up for a mile or two, everything will
be dandy."
After much kicking of tires and anxious examination, the boys did
actually manage to find a Ford machine that promised, with more or
less reservations, to do its duty, and, after engaging it with a
driver for one-thirty that afternoon, they walked importantly from
the shop, much to the amusement of the garage man.
"Fine set of kids," he muttered, shaking his head admiringly as he
returned to the machine that he was repairing. "Always full of pep
and ginger whenever you see 'em. They'll go a long way, those kids
will."
In spite of various gloomy predictions, at one-thirty that afternoon
there was still not a cloud in the sky and the breath of the sun
smote downward almost as hotly as it would in midsummer.
Gayly the four boys started off in the two cars, eager to pick up
the poor shut-ins of their acquaintance and give them the time of
their lives.
Their first stop was at the lonely little cottage of Joel Banks, Civil
War veteran. His housekeeper let them in, a quaint little woman with
pink cheeks and white hair and a spotless white apron tied around her
comfortable waist.
When the boys made known their errand to her she departed in a flutter
of pleased surprise to prepare "the colonel" for his treat. In a few
moments more the old gentleman appeared, leaning heavily upon the
housekeeper, a stout cane grasped stiffly in his knotted fingers.
He gazed at the boys for a moment with dim eyes, then suddenly a gleam
shot into them and he smiled.
"Reckoning on giving me a treat, are you, boys?" he asked. Something
must have caught in his throat, for he cleared it hastily. "Well,
that's mighty fine of you. Been a long time since anybody took that
much interest in old Joel Banks."
Joe introduced his friends in hurried, boy fashion, and a moment later
they were helping the old gentleman out of the house and into the
automobile, at the same time pouring into his interested ears such
tales of the marvels of radio telephony that it was a wonder they did
not talk the veteran deaf.
In the confusion Bob managed to whisper instructions to Joe.
"We'll put the kids in your car," he said hurriedly. "There will be
more room for them, and then they won't bother the old folks. And have
the man drive slowly," he added. "This old bus isn't long on springs,
and I don't want to jolt 'em up too much. Take it easy, Joe."
"All right," agreed the latter, and a moment later they were gliding
cautiously over the smooth roads on their way to the home of little
Dick Winters and his sister Rose.
The children were deliriously happy at the prospect of a little change
and excitement, and there were tears in their mother's eyes as she
helped the boys lift the children into the comfortable back seat of
the Atwood car.
"God bless those boys!" whispered the woman, as the two cars sped
away down the road.
Still further on the boys picked up several more crippled boys and
girls, and then turned off a hot and dusty side road to call for
Aunty Bixby.
Secretly the boys were a little afraid of this formidable old woman,
and they wondered rather nervously whether or not she would break up
the party.
When Jimmy, who was sitting beside Bob in the flivver, pointed out
the white, ivy-grown house where the old woman lived, Bob nudged him
nervously.
"Remember, you've got to take care of her," he said, noticing that
Jimmy himself looked rather worried. "You were the one who spoke
about her--"
"Gee, you don't need to rub it in, do you," growled the fat boy as he
squeezed himself through the door and stepped gingerly onto the dusty
road. "Better let me go in alone. She might get scared if she saw the
whole bunch of us, and maybe she wouldn't come at all."
In his heart Bob thought that that might not be such a terrible thing,
but he kept quiet. A fellow ought to be thankful for small blessings.
Think how much worse it would be if he, and not Jimmy, were forced to
break the news to Aunty Bixby.
The big car came to a stop beside the Ford, and all the boys watched
with interest as Jimmy ascended the steps of the porch, rang the bell,
and a moment later, disappeared into the house.
But as the time passed and he still failed to emerge they began to get
a little uneasy about him. Finally Bob let himself out of the car and
went to consult with Joe and Herb.
They had just about decided to make a raid upon the house and rescue
poor Jimmy when the subject of discussion himself appeared, looking
very red and flustered and out of sorts.
The boys were about to make a concerted rush upon him, but he waved
them back violently.
"She's coming," he said in a hoarse tone somewhere between a whisper
and a shout. "Get back there, you fellows."
They got back just in time to see Aunty Bixby herself emerge. Bob
gave one look and his heart sank into his boots.
"Gee!" he muttered and there was anger in his eye. "Just wait till
I get Doughnuts Plummer alone somewhere."
Meanwhile Aunty Bixby was limping down upon them with all sails set,
her stiff silk dress billowing out about her and her little hat set
securely on her determined head, while Jimmy puffed along behind her.
With rare presence of mind Bob jumped out, opened the door of the car
and offered to assist the old woman. His reward was a cold stare that
made him feel like a baby caught with the jelly jar.
"No, thank you, young man," said Aunty Bixby. "I am quite capable
of climbing into this--er--horrible thing, unassisted."
Bob shot a wild glare at Jimmy, who hovered in the background, but
at the look of utter misery on the latter's face, even Bob's hard
heart was softened.
As the old woman rustled into the car Joel Banks moved over
courteously, but there was a gleam of amusement in his eye that
puzzled Bob. How could he know that the old gentleman was having
the time of his life?
Bob nudged Jimmy, bidding him do his duty and introduce the two old
people, and, to do poor Jimmy justice, he really did do his best. But
Aunty Bixby could not get the name straight, even with the assistance
of her ear trumpet.
"Not that it matters in the least," said the old woman irritably,
settling back with a grim expression on her face. "Now if you will
take my advice and get started, young man, I would be very much
obliged to you."
As the chauffeur felt for the starter and threw in the clutch Bob was
desperately conscious of the old woman's accusing gaze on the back
of his head.
"Say," he growled at Jimmy, huddled miserably in the seat beside him,
"you sure did play a bonehead trick this time. She'll just spoil the
fun for all of us."
"Ah, cut it out," retorted Jimmy, wriggling uncomfortably. "She really
isn't half bad once you get to know her."
"Neither is poison," snorted Bob, as the car chugged wearily once or
twice, then settled down to business. "If we ever get out of this
alive, we'll be lucky."
However, maybe it was the sunshine, or maybe it was Joel Banks'
conversation that wrought the change in her. Be that as it may, Aunty
Bixby unbent surprisingly in the next few minutes. Bob and Jimmy kept
an interested eye on the back seat where Joel Banks patiently shouted
dry jokes into the old woman's trumpet to the accompaniment of the
latter's amused cackle.
"You see!" Jimmy said proudly. "I told you she wasn't half bad if you
only got to know her."
And then, just when they were within half a mile of their destination
the miserable thing happened. There was a sharp explosion and an
ominous whistling of escaping air.
The driver stopped the car, got out and regarded the flat tire with
a frown of despair.
"Now what's the matter?" demanded Aunty Bixby, irritably adding,
with an air almost of triumph: "I always did say I hated the dratted
things."
How the chauffeur managed to get that tire changed the boys never
afterward knew. Somehow or other he accomplished it and finally the
car reached Doctor Dale's house without any further mishaps.
They found the doctor awaiting them, and in his courteous way he
welcomed the guests of the afternoon, welcoming each one in turn
and helping the radio boys to see that each one was made as
comfortable as possible.
Little Dick Winters and Rose and even the older crippled boys were
a trifle awed by the dignity of the occasion and the strangeness
of their surroundings, but beneath the boys' merry joking and the
doctor's friendly manner they soon got rid of this feeling and
prepared to enjoy themselves to the limit.
Mr. Joel Banks was intensely interested in the radio apparatus,
asking intelligent questions, to which the boys eagerly replied.
So interested were they in the mechanical end that Dr. Dale finally
informed them that if they expected to listen in at any concert that
afternoon they had better get to it without further delay.
Aunty Bixby, listening anxiously through her ear trumpet, nodded
emphatically at this suggestion.
"Yes," she said in her high, chronically irritable voice, "let's get
along with it. I want to see what that horn-shaped contraption can do.
Looks to me like nothin' so much's an old fashioned phonygraph."
"It's far more wonderful than any phonograph," the doctor told her
good-naturedly. Then turning to Bob, directed: "Let her go, Bob.
It's just time to catch that concert in Pittsburgh."
Bob obeyed, and then the fun began. For an hour that seemed only a
minute in length all listened to a concert of exquisite music both
vocal and instrumental, a concert given by some of the world's great
artists and plucked from the air for their benefit.
Once Aunty Bixby dropped her trumpet and was heard to murmur something
like "drat the thing!" But Jimmy gruntingly got down on his knees
and retrieved the instrument from its hiding place under a chair.
Then, finding she had missed part of a violin selection, the old
woman exclaimed irritably.
"There, I missed that. Have them play it over again!"
The boys looked at each other, then looked suddenly away, trying
their best to control the corners of their mouths.
However, when the concert was over and the last soprano solo, flowing
so truly through the horn-shaped amplifier, died away into silence
they saw that Aunty Bixby's bright old eyes were wet.
"Drat the thing!" she said, feeling blindly for a handkerchief.
"Never heard tell o' such foolishness, making a body cry about
nothing!"
Joel Banks sat with a knotted hand over his eyes, dreaming old dreams
of days long past, days when he was young and athrill with the joy
of living.
"How about a little dance music now?" asked Bob, glancing over at
Doctor Dale, who nodded his consent.
"Surely," he replied. "We have to have some dance music nowadays
to please the young folks."
The little cripples received this suggestion with enthusiasm and
fairly shouted with delight as the snappy tune of the latest fox trot
floated into the room.
"That's the stuff!" shouted Dick Winters, and the boys grinned
at him.
Later they had a minstrel show that sent them all into gales of
laughter. Joel Banks and Aunty Bixby were as sorry as the young
folks when it was over.
Then suddenly, without warning, the stirring strains of the Star
Spangled Banner filled the room, played by a master band. Suddenly,
as though by some common instinct, all eyes were turned upon Joel
Banks. There was a light in the old veteran's eyes, a straightening
of his whole sagging figure.
He tried to rise, faltered, felt two pairs of strong young arms
lifting him, supporting him, as Bob and Joe sprang to his aid. He
stood there, his hand at stiff salute, in his old eyes the fire of
battle, until the last stirring note died away and the music was
still. Then he sank into a chair, shaking his old head feebly.
"Those were the days!" he muttered under his breath. "Those were
the good old days!"
And so the concert finally came to a close and the boys took their
happily weary guests home through the mellow late afternoon, promising
to do the whole thing over some day.
"They sure seemed to enjoy themselves," said Bob as the radio boys
started toward home. "Aunty Bixby is a nice old lady, and as for Joel
Banks--"
"Say, isn't he a dandy?" Joe demanded, and this time Herb and Jimmy
chimed in:
"He sure is!"