Louise opened the telephone book on the small table beside the bed, and searched diligently.
"I've found three," she announced a minute later. "Amos, Charles, and Mary. But what shall we say when we call?"
"Say we come from the firm of J. W. Carwein, New York City—it'll be the truth, because we have just come from there—and we want to know when he will have another box of lace-work to sell."
"Great!" approved Louise, smiling at the joke. "And if we should happen to locate the man, what shall we do? Make an appointment?"
"Of course! He would have to tell us exactly where he got the goods, and if he isn't telling the truth and is smuggling them in from Canada, we can have him arrested.... But we'll never meet luck like that!"
"I speak for Amos," said Louise. "I like the name. Besides, nobody with a name like that from the Bible could be crooked."
"And Mary ought to be out of it," remarked Linda. "Though of course she might have a son or a brother."
They took a few minutes to write down exactly what they would say, and began calling the numbers. But without success—that is, until they came to Mary. Amos Hofstatter grew angry, believing it was another wrong number, and shrieked that he had never heard of anybody named Carwein. Charles Hofstatter, identifying Louise's voice as that of a young girl, tried to make a date with her, but she scornfully replied, "Act your age!" and hung up with a bang.
Linda took the telephone to give the last call, the number listed for Mary Hofstatter.
A rather feeble voice answered.