"Not a bit, Stella," he answered. "In fact, you might help me by looking up the number I want." He raised the instrument, and playing with the receiver as he stood erect, remarked, "Although I am happy to think that I shall not be called upon to deliver any observations on the occasion of the Chichester flower show next Thursday, I may as well ask one of the newspapers if their local correspondent would give the ceremony some little attention."
Stella Croyle took up the telephone book.
"Which newspaper is it to be, Sir Chichester?"
"The Harpoon, I think. Yes, I am sure. The Harpoon."
Stella Croyle looked up the number and read out:
"Gerrard, one, six, two, double three."
Sir Chichester accordingly called upon the trunk line and gave the number.
"You will ring me up? Thank you," he said, and replacing the receiver, stood in anxious expectancy.
"I thought that your favourite paper was the Daily Flashlight?" Stella observed.
"That's quite true, Stella. It was," Sir Chichester explained naïvely. "But I have noticed lately a regrettable tendency to indifference on the part of the Flashlight. The management is usually too occupied to converse with me when I ring it up. On the other hand, I am new to the Harpoon. Hallo! Hallo! This is Sir Christopher Splay speaking," and he delivered his message. "Thank you very much," said Sir Chichester as he hung up the receiver. "Really most courteous people. Yes, most courteous. What is their number, Stella? I must remember it."