“One-eight-two-seven, Oxford, doesn’t answer.”
“Aw, what ye givin’ us!” exclaimed Charley, “cutting” into the conversation. “Ring ’em again, Flossie.”
“I’ll give you the manager,” came the girl’s voice over the wire again, and there was a frigid tone in it.
“Say, she must be a new one on this circuit,” remarked Charley to Tom through the instrument. “The regular girl don’t care if you have a little joke with her. Guess I’d better go slow. Listen now.”
Soon a man’s voice was heard asking what was wanted, and Charley, talking back to him said he was sure there must be some one in at the number he called.
“The operator will try again for you,” said the manager.
Soon Tom heard a voice he recognized as that of a boy asking:
“What’s the matter? What ye ringin’ that way fer?”
“Hello, Pete!” called Charley. “That you?”
“Sure. This you, Charley?”