Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1896-02-29

l
sa1es Tom, Dick and Harry can come
here and below into the telephone until
thev are hoarse, but I'll be switched II
I'll BIO messenger boy any longer.
But messages continued to come and
90 increasing rather than decreasing IN
frequency. People in the neighborhood
fell into the habit of saying to friends in
distant parts Of the city when leaving
a question open: "Just telephone me
when you make up your mind. haven't
n telephone myself. but the Joneses
have, and they are very obliging about
] letting me use it. -
So the fact that telephone was own
ed by an obliging family circulated al
most as rapidly as if it had been lie
| There were times when Mrs. Jones
hadn't the face to ask Susan to stop her
work and carry these messages, so she
carried them herself, trying to keep up
her self respect by combining an GRAND
of her own in the same direction There
were a few messages, however, which
remained forever Indignantly shut with
| in the telephone-as, for instance, that
of the little girl, which came in a
shrill, piping voice:
Mrs Jones, will you send your sery-
| ant over to Mrs. Graham's to ask Milly
where she got that perfectly delicious
delight she gave me the other day: And
tell her to be quick about it, please, for
| I'm waiting.
| And another which came in chutfy,
distorted, conversational English, regu-
lar "chappis" English, very hard to I'M
derstand, but which she finally straight
| ened out to: Il say there-aw-oh--is
that you, Mrs. Jones? Sorry TO trouble
you, but would you be so awfully good
as to send word to Mrs. Bruce-aw-
| that III awfully cut up about it, but
won't be able 70 dine there tonight: Aw
i wouldn't trouble you, but it's so
| awfully hot / can't 90 round to explain
| to her-you know Thanks, awfnlly. "
| The telephone was closed, and the aw-
| fully cut up young man whose sole
| claim on Mrs. Jones was that they had
once met at party was left to be heal
ed by time.
| He had for company in his fate the
| enthusiastic tennis player. who, in the
| midst of "a little summer shower, "
summoned Mrs. Jones.
AZ want to speak to Flanagan, the
gardener.
This is not Flannigan's telephone. "
"And who is speakingF'
"Mrs Jones. "
"Oh. well, Mrs. Jones, can give my
message to you just as we'll. Iwant you
to tell Flanagan 10 come and roll the
! tennis ground at once. He will under.
| stand. Tell him right away, please.
''Flannigan does not live here -
! 'Well, yen can send him word, I
suppose, in surprised and offended
voice, ito oblige lady. 1t is Miss Mora
timer who is speaking" and there was
an impressive silence. Mrs. Jones re-
membered Miss Mortimer as q high
| stepping young woman whom she had
met at friends house, and who had
| given her the impression Of taking an
| inventory of her. SO Mrs. Jones took
pleasure in replying: Miss Mortimer
probably does. not know that she is adj
dressing a private telephone. Good
day"
! But it was Jones, the luckless Jones.
who seemed set aside for the cruel buff
feting of the telephoning public One
night. which hewill ever point to as
the widest ana wettest night he has
known he had settled himself into his
/ most comfortable chair, with pile of
new magazines beside him, when he
| Jeff lxy,
telephone. He responded with readiness,
for he was rather expecting call from
his partner, and to his cheerful Hello.
| old fellow, I'm herel" came in sput-
tering and wind tossed voice, "Wil Won
| please tell Mrs. Goodson that as it is so
stormy her daughter will not 60 home
tonight"
Jones turned and confronted mis- wife.
and for time words refused to come.
well, this is little too much! Now.
think Of an unknown voice barking at
me to go into storm like this and tell
the Goodsons that their daughter will
not be at home tonightp'
The Goodsons lived just six squares
away.
And what will you do dear? WHY
didn't you say plainly that you would
not and could not go ont into storm
! like this; that they must send a mes
senger?'
They shut me off without giving me
1 time to answer.
! We'll. call them up. Call them I'D
at once
Jane, please have some sense. How
! do ] know where Miss Goodson has
gadded off to? How do l know what
! number to call up?''
well, just wouldn't go"
"Oh, I'll have to. They are friends.
and if they are expecting that girl Of
theirs home tonight and she doesn't
come Mrs Goodson will go out of her
mind"
So Jones drove himself forth, clad in
righteous indignation and waterproof
| coat. The cold rain dashed him, and the
wind belabored his umbrella, and he
was more than once obliged to pause
under friendly porches to get his breath