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Updated: July 11, 2025
"Who has the big chore of following up all these people and making certain that they are conforming to the law?" questioned Mr. Crowninshield. "The Department of Commerce issues the licenses for all private and commercial stations and sends its inspectors to keep an eye on whatever comes under their control. It is this department that will have jurisdiction over Surfside if the license is granted.
"It isn't probable you'll have much to handle that is important," declared Mrs. King. "It won't be like dealing with government messages or wrecks." The two boys exchanged a glance. Much as they wished to they dared not initiate their mother into the secrets of Surfside. "You never can tell what messages you'll catch by wireless," Bob returned ambiguously. "Besides, Mr.
"There's a pretty drive to the South Shore, that maybe you have not tried yet," suggested the hackman. "South Shore? That's another name for Surfside, isn't it?" asked Betty. "It's another part of the same side of the island I refer to," he answered.
"Wal, if it ain't Walter King! What you after, young one? I hear you've become the proprietor of Surfside bought out the whole darn place for yourself." "I did buy it but I'm going to sell it again. It's too small. I can't get room enough to stretch up there," came impishly from the lad on the platform. "Show! You don't say!" drawled Mr. Burns with obvious relish of the joke.
Certainly no more time must be wasted. With Achilles leaping before him Walter raced back to Surfside. Mr. Crowninshield, irritable and excited, was just coming out of the house. "May I speak to you a moment, sir?" panted the boy. "Yes, if it is important. I'm in a rush so do not delay me." "But it's about Lola." "Lola! Go ahead, then, if you have anything to say." The lad told his story. "Ha!
He was a tall, handsome fellow with a grave mouth and thoughtful brown eyes; and when he spoke it was in a voice low and pleasing to the ear. "Oh, Bob and I have lots of secrets we haven't let you into, little chap," affirmed the master of Surfside gaily. "I never was so surprised!" gasped Walter. "We meant you should be. Your brother settled everything up over the telephone a day or two ago."
As a democratic young American who had always mingled in the best society Lovell's Harbor had to offer he had been free to give a hail to anybody he desired to greet. But at Surfside everything was different. He must stifle his natural impulses and curb his tongue, a role very hard for one who had had no previous experience with class distinctions.
It was wretched weather for the Crowninshields to be coming to Surfside and yet that they were already on the way the jangling telephone attested. "I wouldn't have had 'em put in an appearance a day like this for the world!" fretted Jerry Taylor, who for some unaccountable reason seemed to hold himself responsible for the general dampness and discomfort.
"Don't you be fussed, young man," smiled Mr. Crowninshield. "We're all of an age here." "I quite forgot," apologized the tutor. "That is exactly what I want you to do," returned the master of Surfside. "Ignore us old people. We are only listening in, anyway, and have no earthly right to be here." "Still, I wish to treat you with " "It's all right, Bob. We understand," put in Mrs.
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