double, we might have a bag and switch it across.”

Ha! the audience pricked its ears and sat alert, seeing in imagination the tiny cord swung high in space above the dividing ground, stretching from window to window, fastened securely on the sills, “somehow,” according to the girls, the boys critically debating the question of ways and means, strong iron hoops, for choice, clamped into the framework of the windows.

“How would the messages be sent?”

“In a bag, of course. Put the letter in the bag; then we’d pull and pull, and it would work round and round, till it arrived at the opposite end.”

A stealthy exchange of glances testified to the general realisation of the fact that it would take a long time to pull, a much longer time, for instance, than to run round by the road, and deposit the missive in the letter-box, a still unforbidden means of communication. Every one realised the fact, but every one scorned to put it into words. What was a mere matter of time, compared with the glory and éclat of owning a real live telegraph of one’s own?

The first stage of the proceedings was to obtain the parental consent, and this was secured with an ease and celerity which was positively disconcerting. When mothers said, “Oh, yes, dears, certainly—certainly you may try!” with a smile in their eyes, a twist on their lips, and a barely concealed incredulity oozing out of every pore, it put the youngsters on their mettle to succeed, or perish in the attempt. The mothers obviously congratulated themselves on a project which would provide innocent amusement for holiday afternoons, while they inwardly derided the idea of permanent success.

“We’ll show ’em!” cried Harry darkly. “We’ll let ’em see!”

The next point was to decide on the window in each house which should act as telegraph station. In the case of the Vernons there was obviously no alternative, for the third-floor landing window possessed qualifications far in excess of any other, but with the Garnetts two rival factions fought a wordy combat in favour of the boys’ room and the little eerie inhabited by Lavender, each of which occupied equally good sites.

“Stick to it! Stick to it!” were Harry’s instructions to his younger brother. “They can’t put the thing up without us, so they’re bound to come round in the end, and if we’ve got the telegraph station, it will give us the whip hand over them for ever. It’s our room, and they’ve 

 Prev. P 9/208 next