"What!" exclaimed the owner of the nose, in accents of incredulous wonder. "All over the world?"
"Certainly not! only the offices on this wire; there are about twenty," was the impatient reply.
"Ah!" evidently relieved. "But," considering, "supposing you do not catch all the sounds, what do you do then?"
"Break."
"Break! Break what? The instruments?" queried the owner of the nose, perplexedly, and looking as if that must be a very expensive habit.
"Break the circuit—the connection,—open the key and ask the sending office to repeat from the last word I have been able to catch!"
Then seeing unmistakable evidence of more questions in the nose, Nattie threw the ink-soaked blotting-paper and her last remnant of patience into the waste basket, and added,
"But you must excuse me, I am too busy to be annoy—interrupted longer, and there are books that will give you all the information that you require!"
So saying, Nattie turned her back, and the owner of the nose withdrew it, its tip glistening with indignation as she walked away. As it vanished, Nattie gave a sigh of relief, and sat down to mourn her ruined dress. Whatever may have been her previous opinion, she was positive now that this was the prettiest, the most becoming dress she had ever possessed, or might ever possess! Only the old, old story! We prize most what is gone forever!
"And all that dreadful man's—or woman's—fault at X n!" cried Nattie, savagely. Unjustly too, for if any one was responsible for the accident, it was the owner of the nose.