“Oh! come, come! this will never do! You are getting on altogether too fast for people who were quarreling so yesterday!” broke in a third party, who signed “Em” and was a young lady wire-acquaintance of Nattie’s, some twenty miles distant.
“You think the circuit of our friendship ought to be broken?” queried Nattie.
“Ah! leave that to time and change, by which all circuits are broken,” remarked C.
“Yes, but such a sudden friendship is sure to come to a violent end,” Em said. “Suppose now I should report you for talking so much—not to say flirting—on the wire, which is against the rules you know?”
“In that event I should know how to be revenged,” replied C. “I should put on my ‘ground’ wire and cut off communication between you and that little fellow at Z!”
Em laughed, and perhaps feeling herself rather weak on that point, subsided, and Nattie began, “Sentiment—”
But the pretty little speech on that subject she had all ready was spoiled by an operator—who evidently had none of it in his soul—usurping the wire with the prefaced remark,
“Get out!”
The wire being unusually busy, this was all the conversation Nattie and C had during the day, but Just before six o’clock came the call,
“B m—B m—B m—X n.”
“B m,” immediately responded Nattie.
“I merely want to ask for my character before saying G. N. (good night). Haven’t I been amiable today?” was asked from X n.
“Very, but there is no merit in it, as Mark Tapley would say,” replied Nattie. “You had no provocation.”
“Now I flattered myself I had ‘come out strong!’ Alas! what a hard thing it is to establish one’s reputation,” said C, sagely; “but I trust to Time, who, after all, is a pretty good fellow to right matters, notwithstanding a dreadful careless way he has of strewing crow’s feet and wrinkles.”
“Has he dropped any down your way?” asked Nattie.
“Hinting to know my age now, are you? Oh! curiosity! curiosity! Yes, I think he has implanted a perceptible crow’s foot or two; but he has spared the hairs of my head, and for that I am thankful! Did you ever see an aged operator? I never did, and don’t know whether it’s because electricity acts as a sort of antidote, or whether they grow wise as they grow old, and leave the business. The case is respectfully submitted.”
“Your organs of discernment must be very fully developed,” Nattie replied. “It is fortunate I am too far away to be analyzed personally; but I don’t think I will stay after hours to discuss these things to night. I am tired, for I have had a run of disagreeable people today. So G. N.”
“G. N., my dear,” said the gallant C, in whose composition bashfulness seemed certainly to have no part. But then—as Nattie previously had thought—he was a long way off.
It must be confessed C could hardly fail to have been flattered had he known how full Nattie’s thoughts were of him, as she went home that night. A little foolish in the young lady, who rather prided herself on being strong-minded, this deep interest; but hers was a lonely life, poor girl, and C was certainly entertaining “over the wire,” whatever he might be in a personal interview—of course, not very likely to occur. No! it was all “over the wire!”
As she reached her own door, absorbed in these meditations, she heard the sound of a merry laugh over in Mrs. Simonson’s, and saw a large trunk in the hall. From this she inferred that Miss Archer had arrived, a fact Miss Kling confirmed, with uplifted eyebrows, and the remark,
“There must be something wrong about a young woman who has three immense trunks!”
Although Nattie felt a desire to make this newcomer’s acquaintance, it was less strong than it might have been had she arrived a week sooner; for it was undoubtedly true that the interest she had in her new, invisible friend far exceeded that towards a possible visible one. Such is the power of mystery!
The office now possessed a new charm for her. To the surprise of an idle clerk in an office over the way, who had always noted how particular she was to arrive at exactly eight a.m., and to leave precisely at six p.m., she suddenly began to appear before hours in the morning, and to stay after hours at night. Of course this benighted person was not aware that by so doing she secured quiet chats with C, uninterrupted, and without being told in the middle of some pretty speech to “Shut up!” or to “Keep out!” by some soured and inelegant operator on the line, to whom the romance of telegraphy had long ago given place to the monotonous, poorly-paid, everyday reality.
And it came to pass that C soon shared all her daily life, thoughts and troubles. Annoyances became lighter because she told him, and he sympathized. Any funny incident that occurred was doubly funny, because they laughed over it together, and so it went on.
That “good night, dear,” previously unchallenged, became a regular institution and still, on account of those long miles between them, Nattie made only a faint remonstrance when his usual morning salutation grew into “Good morning, little five-foot girl at B m!” then was shortened to “Good morning, little girl!”
And all this time it never occurred to them that excepting N was for Nattie, and C for Clem, they knew really nothing about each other, not even their names.
Thus the acquaintance went on, amid much banter from the before-mentioned Em, and interruptions from disgusted old settlers.
It was by no means to the satisfaction of Quimby, that Miss Rogers should thus allow the telegraphic world to supersede the one in which he had a part. That intimacy with Miss Archer, of which he had dreamed, as a means of improving his own acquaintance with her towards whom his susceptible heart yearned, did not make even a beginning. In fact, what with Nattie being engaged all day, and stopping after hours for a quiet talk
