in search of it, for I remembered the sleeper above-stairs, and knew that the sooner that bell was muffled the better.
I found the telephone, still shrilling out its impatient call, in what looked to me like a library. I sat down in front of the rosewood table and stared at the transmitter-stand. Then I deadened the bell-shrill with my hand, debating whether or not it would be best for me to lift that receiver. Finally, as it happened with the wife of Bluebeard, curiosity got the better of mere cold feet. I put the receiver to my ear and whispered a very quiet and cautious "Hello" into the instrument.
"So you got out there all right?" asked a man's voice. There was a familiar ring about that voice, but I was unable to place the speaker.
"Yes," I guardedly whispered back.
"Have you got a cold?" inquired the voice over the wire.
"Yes," I whispered, "a terrible one!"
"Well, I'm glad you're there, anyway," answered the voice, after a pause.
I didn't know what to say, so I ventured a wild guess at it.
"But why didn't you call me earlier?" I whisperingly demanded.
