"Dear Timothy—I will never speak to you again as long as I live if you don't come to my party. You just must come.
"Arethusa."
Arethusa read it in triumph. It expressed just what she wanted to express to Timothy. Then she counted the words she had written, and her facial expression changed radically. She leaned over the counter toward the operator.
"Does it have to be ten words?"
"If it's a telegram, Miss, unless you want to pay the charges for the extra words. It might be a day letter," he suggested.
"Is a telegram quicker?"
It was.
Then it must be a telegram.
She counted the words over again, but they remained considerably more than ten.
"But I've got to say all that," she said, aloud, "I've just got to!"