"Well, jiggle it again."
"Rottenest telephone service in the world," growled Mr. Smilk. "When you think what we have to pay for telephones these days, you'd think—hello! Hell—lo!"
"Got her?"
"I thought I had for a second, but I guess it was somebody yawning."
"Awning?"
"Say, if you'll hold that thing around so's I can talk at it, you'll hear what I'm saying. How do you expect me to—hello! Central? Central! Hello! Where the hell have you been all—hello! Well, can you beat it? I had her and she got away."
"No use trying to get her now," said Mr. Yollop, resignedly. "Hang up for a few minutes. It makes 'em stubborn when you swear at 'em. Like mules. I've just thought of something else you can do for me while we're waiting for her to make up her mind to forgive you. Come along over here and close this window you left open."
Mr. Smilk in closing the window, looked searchingly up and down the fire escape, peered intently into the street below, sighed profoundly and muttered something that Mr. Yollop did not hear.
"I've got a fur coat hanging in that closet over there, Cassius. We will get it out."
Carefully following Mr. Yollop's directions, the obliging rascal produced the coat and laid it upon the table in the center of the room.