answered. “I ought to hang this receiver right up,” thought she, but instead she held it, her face beaming with a sympathetic smile.
“Are you feeling better today, Dolly?”
“Yes, I'm better.”
“Able to go to the show then, tonight?”
“Yes, I'm able to go.”
Here a thin small voice put in, “No, you're not able! You're not going.”
“Mamma says, – ” began a pouting voice.
“I heard what she said,” said Jack, laughing. “Have you been up all day?”
“Most of the day.”
“Can you eat anything?”
“I ate an egg, some toast and some fruit for dinner.”
“That's fine. I'll bring you a box of candy then pretty soon – I'm coming down in a little bit.”
“That will be lovely.”
“Which, the candy or the coming down?”
“The candy, goose, of course.” A laugh at both ends of the wire.
Then Jack's voice. “Well, here comes the doctor. I've got to have my neck amputated now. Goodbye.”
“Good-bye.”
“All's fair in love and war,” said Mary, “and it's plain to see what this is.” Then she hung up the receiver without a qualm.
There were other times when the doctor's wife was glad she had gone to the 'phone, as in this instance.
She had taken down the receiver when a man's voice said, “The doctor just stepped out for a few minutes. If you will tell me your name, madam, I'll have him call you when he comes in.”
Disinterested courtesy spoke in his voice, but Mary was not in the least surprised to hear the curt reply, “It won't be necessary. I'll call him when he comes.”
“I dare say that gentleman, whoever he may be, is wondering what he has done,” thought Mary.
But it was not altogether unpleasant to her to hear somebody else squelched, too!
There came a day when the doctor's wife rebelled. When her husband came home and ate his supper hastily and then rose to depart, she said, “You'd better wait at home a few minutes, John.”
“Why?” He put the question brusquely, his hat in his hand.
“Because I think someone will ring here for you in a minute or two. Some man rang the office twice so I went to the 'phone to explain that you must be on your way to supper and he could find you here.”
“Who was it?”
“I do not know.”
“Thunder! Why didn't you find out?”
Mary looked straight at her husband. “How many times have I told you, John, that many people decline to give their names or their messages to any one but you. I think I should feel that way about it myself. For a long time I have dutifully done your bidding in the matter, but now I vow I will not trample my pride under my feet any longer – especially when it is all in vain. I will watch the 'phone as faithfully as in the past, but I will not ask for any name or any message. They will be given voluntarily if at all.”
“All right, Mary,” said the doctor, gently, seeing that she was quite serious.
“I do not mean to say that most of the people who 'phone are grouchy and disagreeable – far from it. Indeed the majority are pleasant and courteous. But it is those who are not who have routed me, and made me vow my vow. Don't ask me to break it, John, for I will not.”
And having delivered this declaration, Mary felt almost as free and independent as in ante-telephone days.
The doctor had seated himself and leaning forward was swinging his hat restlessly between his knees. He waited five minutes.
“I'll have to get back to the office,” he exclaimed, starting up. “I'm expecting a man to pay me some money. Waiting for the 'phone to ring is like watching for the pot to boil.”
When he had been gone a minute or two, the ring came. With a new step Mary advanced to it.
“Has the doctor got there yet?” the voice had lost none of its grouch.
“He has. And he waited for your message which did not come. He could not wait longer. He has just gone to the office. If you will 'phone him there in two or three minutes, instead of waiting till he is called out again, you will find him.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Blank.” The man was surprised into courtesy.
The clear-cut, distinct sentences were very different from the faltering, apologetic ones, when she had asked for his name or his message twenty minutes before.
Mary's receiver clicked with no uncertain sound and a smile illumined her face.
One day when the snow was flying and the wind was blowing a gale the doctor came hurrying in. “Where is the soapstone?” he asked, with small amenity. His wife flew to get it and laid it on the hearth very close to the coals. “Oh dear! How terrible to go out in such a storm. Do you have to?” she asked.
“I certainly do. Do you think I'd choose a day like this for a pleasure trip?”
“Aren't you glad you got that galloway?” she asked, hurrying to bring the big, hairy garment from its hook in the closet. She helped her husband into it, turned the broad collar up – then, when the soapstone was hot, she wrapped it up and gave it to him. “This ought to keep your feet from freezing,” she said. The doctor took it, hurried out to the buggy, pulled the robes up around him and was gone.
“Eight miles in this blizzard!” thought Mary shivering, “and eight miles back – sixteen miles. It will take most of the day.”
Two hours after the doctor had gone the telephone rang.
“Is Dr. Blank there?”
“No, he is in the country, about eight miles southwest.”
“This is Drayton. We want him at John Small's as soon as possible. How soon do you think he will be back?”
“Not for several hours, I am afraid.”
“Well, will you send him down as soon as he comes? We want him bad.”
Mary assured him she would do so. “Poor John,” she thought as she put up the receiver.
In a few minutes she went hurriedly back. When she had called central, she said, “I am very anxious to get Dr. Blank, central. He is eight miles southwest of here – at the home of Thomas Calhoun. Is there a 'phone there?” Silence for a few seconds then a voice, “No, there is no 'phone at Thomas Calhoun's.”
Disappointed, Mary stood irresolute, thinking. Then she asked,
“Is there a 'phone at Mr. William Huntley's?”
