Wired Love, Ella Cheever Thayer [hot novels to read .txt] 📗

to her had a headache with ill-humor. Usually very quick at deciphering the illegible scrawls often handed her for transmission, she today was frowned at for her stupidity in making them out; and one lady to whom a message was sent through poor Nattie’s office, was much exercised on receiving it, to learn over an unknown gentleman’s signature, that he would be with her at midnight. He really was her husband, but Nattie had transmitted the name the writing looked most like, which was one very remote from the real one.

All these mistakes she laid at C’s door, and grew more disgusted with him, accordingly, especially when she counted her cash, and found herself a dollar short. She managed, however, by frequent excuses, to get along without holding any conversation with him until the latter part of the afternoon, when, the wire not being in use, and business slacking up, he called persistently, savagely, and entreatingly⁠—all of which phases can be expressed in dots and dashes⁠—interspersing the call with such expressions as,

“Please answer, N! Where are you, N? Why will you treat thus a poor fellow who thinks so much of you?”

“I should think he might take a hint! Must I tell him in plain words that a personal inspection leads me to decline the honor of farther acquaintance? when, too, he particularly requested me not to mention his visit, over the wire?” thought Nattie; and then, as he continued to call, she arose impatiently, and answered shortly,

“B m!”

“You naughty little girl!” immediately responded C, “where have you been all day? Is it thus you treat me on my return, when I expected you would be glad to see me again?”

“I have been busy,” Nattie replied briefly, with a repetition of her platitude, and cringing at the same time over the first of his remark, as she recalled his tout ensemble.

“So you have said every time I have called,” C answered, apparently entirely unconscious of the possible reason. “What is the cause? You never used to be busy always, you know!”

“How different he is on the wire from what he is in reality!” thought Nattie, with a return of her first disappointment, “and how hard it is to merge the two in one!” But she answered,

“There is a first time for everything; besides, I have not felt like talking today.”

“Not with me?” queried C.

“No!” replied Nattie briefly, and to the point.

C held his key open a moment.

“I do not understand it,” he said at last. “It isn’t possible that I have done anything to offend you?”

“Only offended me with the sight of you!” thought Nattie; but unwilling to be really impolite, replied, “Certainly not!”

“You are not angry about yesterday, are you?” pursued C.

“Certainly not,” repeated Nattie, adding to herself, “A faint idea that I did not exactly fall in love with you is creeping into your red head, is it?”

“If I have done anything, I beg you to tell me what, for I am ignorant of it, and I assure you I am penitent, and that I forgive you!” continued C, “only please don’t be cross to me!”

Nattie saw her opportunity for picking a quarrel, and seized it.

“I do not know what you mean by my being cross!” she said. “I am sure I was not aware that I was obliged to talk to anyone unless I felt like it. I am not in the mood today, and I will not be forced. You have no right to call me cross, and when I am in the humor to talk with you again I will let you know!”

“Very well!” C replied promptly, undoubtedly angry himself now; “I will wait your pleasure!” and then was mute.

“It has not been quite so gradual as I intended, but I think I have effectually settled the matter, and my mind is relieved,” thought Nattie; yet she sighed, and her satisfaction was followed by depression, for with C departed the pleasantest part of her office life, a fact she could not disguise. In the week that followed, when C, true to his word, waited, saying nothing, she missed continually the sympathy, the gay talk, the companionship that had made the constantly-occurring annoyances endurable, and the days that dragged so now seem short. The office business did not fill half her time, and the constant confinement began to be irksome to her, whose nature demanded activity; in consequence, she often grew impatient and answered unnecessary questions of customers with a shortness that gave considerable offence; and had it not been for Cyn, who brought her sunny presence quite often into the office, heedless of the “no admittance” on the door, the monotony that had now displaced the romantic side of telegraphy would have plunged Nattie among the shadows almost constantly.

Of course the sudden cessation of the intimacy between C and N was a theme of much surprise and bantering comments along the line, especially from Em. But these facetious remarks gradually became fewer as the wonder subsided. One day, nearly two weeks after the “collapse,” Nattie was surprised to hear the old familiar “B m⁠—B m⁠—B m⁠—X n.” Wondering if he had grown tired of waiting and was about to attempt a renewal of their former friendship, Nattie rather impatiently answered. But it proved he had a message, an occurrence quite infrequent with him. This he sent without unnecessary words. But after she had given “O. K.” and closed her key, he opened his to say,

“Please, don’t you want to make up, N?”

“I have nothing to make up!” Nattie replied.

“O. K.” was C’s response as he again subsided.

“He snubs easily!” thought Nattie, much relieved.

The following Saturday night, however, as she was taking in from the shelf outside the blanks, ink, and bad pens that excited the ire of irascible customers, preparatory to closing, C once more called. With a devout hope that he was not going to be annoying, Nattie answered.

“Notwithstanding the late coolness between us, which was not my fault, and for which I cannot account” he began, and then someone with