ca-a-an't

Updated: May 1, 2025

Martha Foote, hairpin in mouth, turned and eyed it, speculatively, fearfully. It shrilled on in her very face, and there seemed something taunting and vindictive about it. One long ring, followed by a short one; a long ring, a short. "Ca-a-an't it? Ca-a-an't it?" "Something tells me I'm wrong," Martha Foote told herself, ruefully, and reached for the blatant, snarling thing. "Yes?" "Mrs. Foote?

Edna Ferber - Cheerful—By Request