“What number did you say?” Cicely therefore said sharply; could he have possibly mistaken his call? Parkway 58 was the Lucas call, and this, Boulevard 12—Why, in the name of all that was good and loyal was this Herbert Dale calling Boulevard 12?
“I’d like to get 12, the Boulevard,” repeated the suave voice, this time with its sub-acid quality less submerged.
Cicely plugged-in for the required number, but her wits were working quickly, her warm heart was beating fast, sending the blood up to her bright hair with a generous, pitying indignation for the girl whom she admired at a distance, whom she had set up in a sort of shrine as the ideal maiden.
Cicely was not in the habit of indulging curiosity by “listening in”; indeed, she felt little curiosity as to other people’s affairs, but now what she felt was not curiosity, but a burning sympathy for that other girl. Therefore she listened in. Only a few moments did she listen to the conversation between Herbert Dale, on one end of the wire, and someone at Boulevard 12 on the other. She heard enough to satisfy her that her favorite theory of voices being indicative had a solid foundation in fact. She jerked herself away from her eavesdropping, let her hands fall into her lap, nervously twisting her fingers, her head bowed as she rapidly examined herself as to what she meant to do about it.
“For the love of Pete, Cis Adair, your face’s redder’n your hair; you’re all red! You listened in! What’s up?” cried her neighbor, putting out her hand to follow Cicely’s example.
“Keep off! It’s my business!” ordered Cicely sharply, and the girl thought it better to abandon her plan, warned by the flash in Cis’s eyes.
“Just hold your tongue, Mimi, a bit; I’ve got to think,” Cis added, and again Mimi obeyed her.
“She won’t thank me,” Cis told herself. “Not now, anyway; may later. But it’s not a square deal to keep her in the dark. If she chooses to go on with him, it’s her business, but she ought to have the chance to choose; that’s it! She’s no sort of idea. She’s a little idiot if she marries him, knowing he can’t be trusted when such a girl’s that has set the 10th for the wedding. But that’s her affair. I’ll not deal straight with her if I don’t let her in on what I know. It’ll hit her hard, poor kid, but it might be worse, only she won’t see that now. It will cost me my job. Mimi’s sure to tell Amelia; she’s thick with her. I’ll be giving her my scalp, sure and certain. Well, what of it? What’s my job, beside the whole life of a mighty fine girl? Mimi may hold her tongue—No, she won’t! Well, if it makes me pay, what’s that to do with the rights of it? I’d take it pretty cruel if another girl didn’t stand by me in Miss Lucas’ place. I’m going to do it!”
Cicely set her plug in Parkway 58; her hand trembled as she did so. Mimi, watching intently, saw it shake. She was suspicious. To let anyone in on a wire to listen to a conversation was to break one of the fundamental laws of the company.
Mimi suspected that Cicely Adair was breaking that law now.