“It was signed with your name.”
“There’s a mistake somewhere.”
“’Tain’t no mistake!” said Fibsy, eagerly, as he listened close to the receiver that Avice held. “Tell him to come here now, Miss Avice.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I must ask Judge Hoyt.”
“Here, gimme it!” and the audacious boy took the receiver from Avice, and speaking directly into the transmitter, said;
“’Twasn’t a mistake, Mr. Stone. ’Twas deviltry. Can’t you come right up to Trowbridge’s now, and get into this thing while the gettin’s good?”
“Who is speaking now?”
“Miss Trowbridge’s seckerterry. She’s kinder pupplexed. But she wants you to come, awful.”
“Let her tell me so, herself, then.”
“Here, Miss Avice,” and Fibsy thrust the receiver into her hand, “tell him to come! It’s your only chance to save Mr. Landon! Take it from me!”