Wired Love by Ella Cheever Thayer (13 ebook reader txt) 📕

fresh blank, and very meekly said,

“G. A.⁠—horse⁠—!”

With another laugh, “X n” complied, and Nattie now succeeded in receiving the message without further mishap.

“What did you sign?” she asked, as she thankfully wrote the last word. Every operator is obliged to sign his own private “call,” as well as the office “call,” and “O. K.” at the close of each message.

“C.” was replied to Nattie’s question.

“O. K. N. B m,” she then said, and added, perhaps trying to drown the memory of her ludicrous error in politeness, “I hope another time I shall not cause you so much trouble.”

C at “X n” was evidently not to be exceeded in little speeches of this kind, for he⁠—or she⁠—responded immediately,

“On the contrary, it was I who gave you trouble. I know I must certainly have done so, or you never could have effected such a transformation as you did. Imagine the feelings of the sender of that message, had he found a hearse awaiting his arrival instead of a horse!”

Biting her lip with secret mortification, but determined to make the best of the matter outwardly, Nattie replied,

“I suppose I never shall hear the last of that hearse! But at all events it took the surliness out of you.”

“Yes, when people come to a hearse they are not apt to have any more kinks in their disposition! I confess, though,” C went on frankly, “I was unpardonably cross; not surly, that is out of my line, but cross. In truth, I was all out of sorts. Will you forgive me if I will never do so again?”

“Certainly,” Nattie replied readily. “I am sure we are far enough apart to get on without quarreling, if, as they say, distance lends enchantment!”

“Particularly when I pride myself upon my sweet disposition!” said C.

At which Nattie smiled to herself, to the surprise of a passing gentleman, on whom her unconscious gaze rested, and who thought, of course, that she was smiling at him.

Appearances are deceitful!

“I fear you will have to prove your sweetness before I shall believe in it,” Nattie responded to C, all unaware of what she had done, or that the strange young gentleman went on his way with the firm resolve to pass by that office again and obtain another smile!

“It shall be my sole aim hereafter,” C replied; and then asked, “Have you a pleasant office there?”

“I regret to say no.” Then looking around, and describing what she saw⁠—“a long, dark little room, into which the sun never shines, a crazy and a wooden chair, a high stool, desk, instruments⁠—that is all⁠—Oh! And me!”

“Last but not least,” said C; “but what a contrast to my office! Mine is all windows, and in cold days like this the wind whistles in until my very bones rattle! The outward view is fine. As I sit I see a stable, a carpenter’s shop, the roof of the new Town Hall that has ruined the town, and⁠—”

“Excuse me,”⁠—someone at another office on the line here broke in⁠—and with more politeness than is sometimes shown in interrupting conversations on the wire⁠—“I have a message to send,” and forthwith began calling.

At this Nattie resumed her interrupted occupation of bewailing her spoiled dress, but at the same time she had a feeling of pleased surprise at the affability of C at “X n.”

“I wonder,” she thought, as she took up her book again, and tried to bury the remembrance of her accident therein, “I do wonder if this C is he or she!”

Soon, however, she heard “X n” “call” once more, and this time she laid her book aside very readily.

“You did not describe the principal part of your office⁠—yourself!” C said, when she answered the “call.”

“How can I describe myself?” replied Nattie. “How can anyone⁠—properly? One sees that same old face in the glass day after day, and becomes so used to it that it is almost impossible to notice even the changes in it; so I am sure I do not see how one can tell how it really does look⁠—unless one’s nose is broken⁠—or one’s eyes crossed⁠—and mine are not⁠—or one should not see a looking-glass for a year! I can only say I am very inky just now!”

“Oh! that is too bad!” C said; then, with a laugh, “It has always been a source of great wonder to me how certain very plain people of my acquaintance could possibly think themselves handsome. But I see it all now! Can you not, however, leave the beauty out, and give me some sort of an idea-about yourself for my imagination to work upon?”

“Certainly!” replied Nattie, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye that C knew not of. “Imagine, if you please, a tall young man, with⁠—”

C “broke” quickly, saying,

“Oh, no! You cannot deceive me in that way! Under protest I accept the height, but spurn the sex!”

“Why, you do not suppose I am a lady, do you?” queried Nattie.

“I am quite positive you are. There is a certain difference in the ‘sending,’ of a lady and gentleman, that I have learned to distinguish. Can you truly say I am wrong?”

Nattie evaded a direct reply, by saying,

“People who think they know so much are often deceived; now I make no surmises about you, but ask, fairly and squarely, shall I call you Mr., Miss, or Mrs. C?”

“Call me neither. Call me plain C, or picture, if you like, in place of your sounder, a blonde, fairy-like girl talking to you, with pensive cheeks and sunny⁠—”

“Don’t you believe a word of it!”⁠—someone on the wire here broke in, wishing, probably, to have a finger in the pie; “picture a hippopotamus, an elephant, but picture no fairy!”

“Judge not others by yourself, and learn to speak when spoken to!” C replied to the unknown; then “To N.⁠—You know the more mystery there is about anything, the more interesting it becomes. Therefore, if I envelop myself in all the mystery possible, I will cherish hopes that you may dream of me!”

“But I am quite sure you can, with propriety be called Mr. C⁠—plain,