THE NOON HOUR
The masquerade to be given at Temple’s and the unique costume to be worn
by Elsie were the subjects of discussion at luncheon. Pee-wee was too
engrossed in his own enterprise to pay much attention to this feminine
chat. He gathered that his sister’s costume was considered to be
something of an inspiration and a masterpiece in the working out. It was
expected to startle the younger set of Bridgeboro and to be the
sensation of the evening. Queen Tut, consort of the celebrated King Tut
of ancient Egypt. Favorite wife of the renowned mummy.
Mrs. Harris and Elsie were rather hazy about whether his name had been
Tut and whether he had possessed a Queen Tut, but anything goes in a
masquerade. There would be masked Charlie Chaplins by the score;
colonial maids, gypsy maids, Swiss peasant maids, pirates, and war
nurses galore. But only one Queen Tut, leader of fashion in ancient
Egypt. The great Egyptian flapper....
Pee-wee hurried through his lunch and upstairs so that he might proceed
with his work uninterruptedly, while his mother and sister lingered in
discourse about the great event. He was well beforehand with his
exterior work, for the radio set was not yet in his possession. It was
to be a birthday present deliverable several days hence. But the secret
(held by women) had leaked out and Pee-wee had thereupon set about
preparing his aerial.
He now gathered this up and dragged it into Elsie’s room. The cross-bars
were laid together, the connecting wires loosely wound about them. He
struggled under the mass, tripped in its treacherous loops, brought it
around endways so it would go through the door, and finally by hook or
crook balanced it across the window-sill where he sat for a moment to
rest. The operations on which he was embarked seemed complicated and
large in conception. By contrast, Pee-wee seemed very small.
It was characteristic of him that his career as a radio-bug should be
heralded by preparatory turmoil. For several days he had striven with
saw and hammer in the cellar, rolls of discarded chicken-wire had been
attacked and left for the cook to trip over, the clothes-line had been
abridged, not a wrench or screw-driver or ball of cord was to be found
in its place.
Pee-wee’s convalescence from grippe had afforded him the opportunity
thus to turn the house and garage upside down in the interest of
science. He had even made demand for hairpins, and had mysteriously
collected all the package handles he could lay hands on. These wooden
handles he had split, releasing the copper wires which ran through them
and converting these into miniature grapnels with which he had equipped
the end of a stout cord. This cord, not an integral part of his aerial,
was nevertheless temporarily attached to it, whether by intention or as
the result of tangling, one could not say. It dangled from it, however,
like the tail of a kite.
The function of his cord, as Pee-wee had explained, was to elevate one
end of the aerial to the attic window after the other end had been
elevated to the tree. In that lofty position no voice, not even the
voice of Honolulu, could escape it. The world (perhaps even Mars) would
talk in Pee-wee’s ear.
The operations (conceived while lying in bed) for elevating this wire
eavesdropper into position were even more extraordinary than the aerial
itself, and Pee-wee was now prepared to take the next important step in
his enterprise. This was to fasten to the aerial the cord which he had
lodged in the tree and thereupon to ascend the tree himself and pull the
aerial up at that end. Following this, he would make his next public
appearance at the attic window from which he would dangle his grappling
line, catching the other end of the aerial and pulling it up at that
end. It could then be drawn tight, adjusted, and made ready against his
birthday.
He was anxious to get the acrobatic part of his enterprise completed
before the return of Dr. Harris who might be expected to interpose some
objection to the flaunting exhibition of broomsticks and rake-handle
above the front lawn; and who assuredly would have been expected to veto
the acrobatic feature of the work.
The doctor might be expected to return at one o’clock; every minute
after that hour would be fraught with apprehension. It was now past
twelve-thirty, as Pee-wee knew from the advance guard of returning
pupils bound for the high school on the next block.