Radio Boys Cronies
CHAPTER I THE CRONIES "Come along, Bill; we'll have to get there, or we won't hear the first of it. Mr. Gray said it would begin promptly at three." "I'm doing my best, Gus. This crutch----" "I know. Climb aboard, old scout, and we'll go along faster." The first speaker, a lad of fifteen, large for his age, fair-haired, though as brown as a berry and athletic in all his easy, deliberate yet energetic movements, turned to the one he had called Bill, a boy of about his own age, or a little older, but altogether opposite in appearance, for he was undersized, dark-haired, black-eyed, and though a life-long cripple with a twisted knee, as quick and nervous in action as the limitations of his physical strength and his ever-present crutch permitted. In another moment, despite the protests of generous consideration for
discloses Mr. and Mrs. Perkins sitting together. At right is large
window facing on square. At rear is entrance to drawing-room.
Leaning against doorway is a safety bicycle. Perkins is clad in
bicycle garb.
Perkins. Well, Bess, I'm in for it now, and no mistake. Bob and
Jack are coming to-night to give me my first lesson in biking.
Mrs. Perkins. I'm very glad of it, Thaddeus. I think it will do you
a world of good. You've been working too hard of late, and you need
relaxation.
Perkins (doubtfully). I know that--but--from what I can gather,
learning to ride a wheel isn't the most restful thing in the world.
There's a good deal of lying down about it; but it comes with too
great suddenness; that is, so Charlie Cheeseborough says. He learned
up at the Academy, and he told me that he spent most of his time
making dents in the floor with his head.
Mrs. Perkins. Well, I heard differently. Emma Bradley learned there
at the same time he did, and she said he spent most of his time
making dents in the floor with other people's heads. Why, really, he
drove all the ladies to wearing those odious Psyche knots. The time
he ran into Emma, if she hadn't worn her back hair that way she'd
have fractured her skull.
CHAPTER I THE CRONIES "Come along, Bill; we'll have to get there, or we won't hear the first of it. Mr. Gray said it would begin promptly at three." "I'm doing my best, Gus. This crutch----" "I know. Climb aboard, old scout, and we'll go along faster." The first speaker, a lad of fifteen, large for his age, fair-haired, though as brown as a berry and athletic in all his easy, deliberate yet energetic movements, turned to the one he had called Bill, a boy of about his own age, or a little older, but altogether opposite in appearance, for he was undersized, dark-haired, black-eyed, and though a life-long cripple with a twisted knee, as quick and nervous in action as the limitations of his physical strength and his ever-present crutch permitted. In another moment, despite the protests of generous consideration for