"That's funny," commented the elevator boy: "he came in only about ten minutes ago."
"Yuh wuddn' think he cud pass away 's quick 's all that—wuddja?"
"Ah, I dunno. Mebbe he had a bun on when he come in. Gen'ly has. I didn' notice."
"Well, th' way he must be poundin' his ear now—notta hear dis racket—yud think he was trainin' for a Rip van Winkle Marathon."
Pause—made audible by the pertinacious bell, grinding away like a dentist's drill in a vacant tooth....
"Waitin' here all day won't get me nothin'. Here, what's th' matta wid you signin' for't?"
"G'wan. Sign it yourself 'nd stick unda the door, whydoncha?"
Second pause—the bell boring on, but more faintheartedly, as if doubting whether it ever would reach that nerve.
Finally Western Union gave it up.
"A'right. Guess I will."