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“Boys—boys say that they have a respect for any ‘O. G.: Old Girl’, radio slang, who can master code—the ‘crutch’, as they call it—because she has to set her back to the wall to do it,” put in Pemrose roguishly. “And then—” her hand went up, in excitement, to her dimpling chin—“we wouldn’t have to depend altogether on my magic ring, radio ring, for any—any little gleanings from the air.”

“Magic ring—humph!” The fairy godfather’s eyebrows were lifted—just a little superciliously. “What can you pick up with a gewgaw like that—toy set like that? Firing pellets at the moon, eh?” he winked quizzically.

“You forget—you forget that my father is an inventor, sir, and that he has invented—discovered—a new crystal—‘radio soul’—which is an amplifier as well as a detector!” Pemrose’s back was up and to the wall now, her blue eyes flashing. “He—oh, he stumbled upon it while experimenting for my ring. We all know that crystals up to this time have been crude affairs,” vouchsafed the girlish radio fan, her chin in the air.