“Speak a little louder, please,” the girl said impersonally. “I can’t hear a single word you’re saying.”
More words from the outside poured through the receiver.
“Yes.” Miss Masters nodded mechanically. “Yes, this is the main office of the Lake City Electrical Company. What?”
There was another pause.
“This is Miss Masters at the ’phone,—yes—yes—I’m the stenographer. What’s that? Private secretary? Yes, I am Mr. John Boland’s private secretary. No, our president, Mr. Harry Boland, has not come downtown yet. We are expecting him at any moment.”
A red-headed office boy stuck an inquisitive head through the door.
“Who’s that,” he demanded, “someone for the boss?”
Miss Masters merely motioned him to silence.
“Yes,” she went on, “his father, Mr. John Boland, will be in some time during the morning. Who shall I say called?”
The girl waited for the answer and hung up the receiver.