With rare presence of mind Bob jumped out, opened the door of the car and offered to a.s.sist 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, una.s.sisted."

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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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 a.s.sistance 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k 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!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE VOICE THAT STUTTERED

The following Sat.u.r.day evening the radio boys were once more a.s.sembled at Bob's house. They were in high spirits, having prepared all their lessons for the following Monday, and were out for an evening's fun with their radio outfit. It was too early for the regular concert to start, but they were experimenting with the set, shifting the sliders around on the tuning coil in an effort to catch some of the messages sent out by near-by amateurs. It was sometimes great fun to listen in on these conversations, and often they wished that they had a sending set so that they could answer some of the remarks pa.s.sed out by the ambitious senders.

For some time they had picked up nothing of interest, and were wishing for the time to come when the concert was to start, when suddenly a voice they had never heard before came out of the air. The boys gazed at each other in astonishment for a few moments, and then broke into irrepressible laughter. For the voice belonged to a man who stuttered terribly, and the effect was ludicrous indeed. The strange voice rasped and stuttered its difficult way along, until some one who possessed a sending as well as a receiving set, interrupted.