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As he read Dorothy's note on the invitation, he chuckled at the thought of his own cleverness, and rejoiced in the knowledge that his débutante had become somewhat his ward and protégée. The bell of his private telephone rang only his intimates had the number of that wire and he raised the receiver with sudden conviction that the voice he would hear was Dorothy's. "Well, my dear?" he said.
David had had the case in his hands and had reluctantly declined the purchase. He pressed the spring, and the case lay open before him. Inside were papers, soft, crackling papers; the case was crammed with them. They were white and clean, and twenty-five of them in all. Twenty-five Bank of England notes for £10 each £250! David fought the dreamy feeling off and took down the telephone receiver.
The City's voice comes to me like a confused murmur through a telephone when the words are unintelligible. The only distinct sounds are the dripping of the moisture from the trees in suburban gardens, and the voice of an old lady imploring her pet dog to return from his evening walk. The voice of all the world is now heard in that silent room.
He had not the heart to make a call at the bazaar, and speculated unhappily upon the proceeds of the afternoon session. It was therefore with something like pleasure that he heard his wife on the telephone speaking more cheerfully than he had heard her for months. "Is that you, John?" she was almost civil. "I'm bringing somebody home to dinner. Will you tell Phillips?"
But " The wind blew his voice away, so that he seemed to be speaking through the telephone, " I've a family to think of." We parted at the door, and I hurried to tell the news to my friends. They smiled when I spoke of Mr. Carville. "We've had news, too," said Bill, helping me to spinach. "A paper from Cecil." "Copy of The Morning," added Mac.
There was a telephone booth at one side of the corridor; the speaker went in and closed the door. After a few moments he came out. "Just as I thought," he said, well pleased. "Partridge knew the cab in a moment. The driver's name is Sams, and he lives at the place they call the Beehive." He looked at his watch.
Frank sighed, and went back to the library, where Ralph was chatting with Mr. Allen, always deeply interested in the strange life story of the boy from Paulding. Three times that evening Frank went to the telephone and held a little confab with some unknown parties.
I put my ear down, and caught the voice of one of the men from our village. He had taken a long bamboo pole, pierced the joints, and crept up behind a broken old wall close beneath my window. By means of this primitive telephone we talked as long as we dared.
Perhaps we could make him want to come; couldn't Hugh invent some way? It was only one chance in a hundred in a thousand, perhaps, that made me talk to your photograph. Let us ask Hugh." "We can ask," Prudence agreed, "but his head is going to be packed full of telephone now, and he won't think or speak of anything else for days.
The clerk pounded a bell and ordered up a saddle-horse for Mr. Turner, who immediately thereupon turned to the telephone, and, calling up Meadow Brook, instructed the clerk at that resort to send a carriage for Mr.
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