Mary looked up. “You are not very elegant in your discourse at times, John, but I'm glad you beat,” she said.
One evening the doctor came in and walked hurriedly into the dining-room. As he was passing the telephone it rang sharply in his ear.
“What is it?” he asked, hastily putting up the receiver.
An agitated voice said, “Oh, Doctor, I've just given my little girl a teaspoonful of carbolic acid! Quick! What must I do!”
“Give her some whiskey at once; then a teaspoonful of mustard in hot water. I'll be right down,” and turning he went swiftly out. When he came back an hour or two later he said: “The mother got the wrong bottle. A very few minutes would have done the work. The telephone saved the child's life. This is a glorious age in which we are living, Mary.”
“And to think that some little children playing with tin cans with a string stretched between them, gave to the world its first telephone message.”
“Yes, I've heard that. It may or may not be true. Now let's have supper.”
“Supper awaits Mr. Non-Committal-Here-As-Ever,” said Mary as she laid her arm in her husband's and they went toward the dining-room together.