After a long wait another voice floated into Tavia’s ear—a woman’s voice. Tavia said, becoming impatient: “I simply want to talk with Mr. Akerson. Is that impossible?”
She was assured by the voice at the other end that it was not, but Mr. Akerson was always busy, and must have the name of the party. This was not what Tavia had expected, and for a moment she was confused and felt like hanging up the receiver and running away.
“Well?” asked the young lady.
“Tell him—oh, just tell him, a young lady; he doesn’t know me.”
“I must have your name, or I cannot call him to the ’phone.”
“How aggravating!” exclaimed Tavia to the empty air, “I didn’t expect I would have to publish my name broadcast.” Then she spoke into the receiver:
“I want to see Mr. Akerson on very special, important business that only concerns myself; kindly tell him that, please,” she said, with great dignity.
Not a sound came from the other end and Tavia began to wonder whether this would end her mission, when a loud, hearty voice yelled right in her ear:
“Hello-o-o!”
It only startled Tavia. At that moment she couldn’t have remembered her own name.