Central was obliged to ring a number of times before the Thurston number answered.
“What seems to be the trouble?” Marjorie demanded irritably. “That number should answer at once.”
“I am ringing them, Madam,” Central replied mechanically.
“Such service. You never can get a number when you want one,” Marjorie muttered irritably as she shook the hook.
“They do not answer,” the operator drawled.
“But I tell you they do answer! They must answer,” Marjorie insisted. “Why, they’re having——”
“There’s your party,” Central interrupted. “Go ahead.”
“Oh—hello—I’d like to speak to Miss Benton, please.”
“There’s no one here by that name,” came the answer curtly. “You must have the wrong number.”
“Is this Mrs. Horace Thurston’s residence?”