“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
“Listen, everybody!”
It was DeForest fooling with his radio telephone over in Newark.
“Listen, everybody!”
And through the air came clearly the chorus of “There ’ll be a hot time in the old town tonight,” rendered by a phonograph nearly a hundred miles away.
“By gad! That’s great!” ejaculated Micky.
“What is?” asked Graeme from the darkness of the bunk.
“I can hear the Radio Company’s phonograph as plain as if it were on the bridge!” answered Micky. “Wait a minute till I call up the Waldorf and see how the game came out!”
“WA—WA—WA—” he flashed. “Are you there, Pickering ? This is the Pavonia—Fitzpatrick. How about the ball game?”
“MPA—MPA—Hello, Micky. Glad to see you. Giants won game—one, nothing—eleven innings. Josh Devore knocked a home run. Great work. Say, did you hear that kid at the Ansonia? He makes me sick! Can’t hear yourself think some of these evenings. PK.,” answered Pickering.
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