Another Man's Telephone. By the Author of "A Bad Boy's Diary."

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 82, 27 December 1884, Page 4

Another Man's Telephone. By the Author of "A Bad Boy's Diary."

Wmsfl — buss — whir-r-r —rattle — bang— whir-r ! Bother those telephones ! they elways make me jump when I'm not expecting them to go off. One of 'em went off this morning, about eleven o'clock, in the little business office of a certain merchant. I sha'n't tell you whether it was in Kalamazoo or Peoria, or where it was, but I expected to get a liberal order from him ; he hadn't come in yet, and I was waiting in the little cubby-hole partitioned off for his private room ; the clerks wondered why he was so late, and I was losing valuable time trying to read tho morning paper, when I jumped half out of the merchant's leather easy -chair to hear that thing go off right behind my left ear. ] " Burr - whirr— bur-r — whir-r-r !" I wished the man would come. It seemed to me he was too aristocratic as to his hours fo v a Western town. '' " Whias— Bea !" " I'll settle the whole thing myself," said I, springing up. "I'll just let 'em know Crackle b out, so I hollered : " Hollo !" and a faint, sweet voice, like Now Orleans sirup gurgling out of a barrel, responded : "Hollo!" The preliminaries thus arranged, the far-away voice went on to inquire — " is that you, Darius?" Now, a drummer who had no cheek would be worth his weight in ejold for a side-show ; it was an awfully dull morning ; I remembered that Darius Crackle's and my voice were much alike, only he had a slight lisp ; so, without an instant's hesitation, I responded : " Yofch, lamDariuth." " Are you really going to give me that sleigh-ride this evening? I want to know, so' 3 to be ready." " Thertainly, my angel." " You won't let your wife know, will you ?" " Let my wife know ! What do you take mo for ? Why thweetest, you know this ish tho night our lodge meets. That ith a good excuth, you tsee." "Well, dear, I'll be ready. You'll lend me one of those lovely sealskins out of your store, so I won't bo cold ?" "Thertainly, thertainly! I'll theo you don't freesth." " And— Darius !" "Hello!" " You'll bring along a pound of chocolate drops !" "Thertainly. On, yeth." "Well-good-bye." "Good-bye, thweotheart." T returned to my paper, und still Crackle arrived not. Whirr— buss—buss— fur— r— r ! "Well, it's sort of interesting, when you have nothing better on hand, so I up and " tlcllo !" again, and a gruff voice, like that of a Newfoundland dog, with a cold, shouts back — " Hello ! is that you, Cracklo ?" " Who olth would it be ?" " Any them clerks in the office?" " Not u thoul but mythelf." " I did that littlo job las' night." " You did !" "I managed j is' as you tol' mo — waited on the dark corner an' hit him a crack on the head with a crowbar — knocked him stone dead." "Stone dead !" " You bet. Nobuddy seen me. It can't never be proved on you or me. I'll be round for the spondulicks you promised me by'm-by." I trembled slightly as I &at down to the papor again ; in fact, I felt cold and horrificd — I had just read, in the morning daily, that a man had been found on Wash-ington-street, with a wound on his head, but the surgeon couldn't say whether it had been made by a sharp instrument, or by a fall on a slippery side-walk, and hitting his head on the curb-stone. What sort of a fellow was this Cracklo, anyhow ? Ho seemed a good-natured, generoushearted fellow, as ever lived ; and he had, on the previous day, invited me to dine with him at six o'clock this very afternoon. Ting-a-ling— burr— whir-r-r ! I guess I was actually pale when I hollered : "Hello! hello! Mr Crackle, wot'll you have sent up to the house for dinner? I've got most anything you ask for to-day." I drew my breath more freely and began to scratch my head. "If I've got to order my own dinner I'll not be stingy," 1 thought. " Oysthers on the half -shell " " All right, sir." "A No. 1 soup bone." "All right." "Porter, south roasts, ten poundth." " Got a beauty, Mr Crackle ; wot next?" " A fine young hen turkey, if you have j it." < l "I have jus' wot'll suit you, sir. — watllc suit me, that's good ! " And a dozen quail." "Yes, sir. What next?" "A few thweetbreadths. At all, I gueth." " I'll send 'em right up. Good bye." " Good-bye, a long good-bye ' I had ordered a lavish dinner, and was pacing up and down the cramped confines of the office wondering if, after all, I should venture to partake ot it with a person who had had a man brained as carelessly as he would a calf, when that confounded thing went off again. Having already put my foot in it, I thought I might as well die for an old sheep as a lamb, so I marched to the instrument— a woman's voico again, not so sugary as the first, just a trifle sharp. " Hello, Darius, ia that you ?" " Hello, yourtholf , Of courth it'th me. " " I hope to Heaven you havn't asked that New York drummer to dinner this evening !" " Alath ! I have ! Why, whath the matter ?" "Matter! matter enough ! Cook's got her back up an' left; there's nothing in the house but the rest of that boiled leg of mutton— and I've told you, over an' over, Darius, those drummers aren't just the kind, of society we ou^hter keep, now Rose Evangeline's grown up into such a handsome girl. We ought to know who's who before we invite him into our house. We can't be too particular ! If you've gone an' asked that drummer, I sha'n'r let Roso lUvangeline come down at all — an' I'll have cold sliced mutton, potatoes, canned tomatuses, an' apple pie for dinner, see if I don't ! I never knew one o' those drummers yet who wasn't sweet on a handsome girl with money. My daughter isn't going to marry a New York drummer." ".But thith ono ith jutht too modetht and thweet for anything. He's engaged, ho teltha me— wouldn't look at a Westhern girl if she had a whole bonnantha. I've thent up thupphith— come, wife, get up the nithest dinner you know how. I want to show him we Wethstern folkths know whath what. Have those raw oysterth packed in ithe for the first courth, with a bottle o£ that Tkinthinnati Bm^undyj

thend out an' get a lake thalmon, an' have it biled with eggj then we'll have those thweotbreada therved ath an entray. Oh, you justh get up a big dinner that'll make his mouth water, won't you, wife, to pleath i me ?" I " S'pose I've got to." [ "Thankths. An' I'll pretend I hadn't thent you any word, you thee, an' he'll think it's only our every- day grub, an' he'll be thurprised at the style we put on. Bybye." ♦ ' I resume my paper. Whirr -irr, buzz-ass, whirr ! "Hello!" " Hello I" " That you, papa ?" " You bet!" "Be sure to bring the New York drummer, papa. I'll be at the dining table, never fear. •'All right, my pet." " Don't notice if my eyes look like I'd been crying, papa. Bob is dead. He was found dead on the street —knocked in the head. I'll nover have another beau that'll love me like Bob. Oh, pa, my heart is broken ; but if that drummer is half as good-looking, bring him along, pa. By-by. I had just time to appear to be interested in the newspaper when my merchant came in. He had a guilty look. I was sure of that. He said his hand trembled with the cold ; but I thought to myself if that was the way fathers got rid of unwelcome suitors— hiring a wretch to knock them in the head, I was glad I did not live in that town ! I gave a glance at the name of tho poor fellow who was found unconscious — Robert Jones, just as I expected, poor Bob ! However, business is business, and I went on with mine with this wlnted sepulchre, i who took women out sleigh-riding, hired obnoxious lovers, assassinated, and so forth, i just if ho was an honest man. After I had gotten a $500 order out of him, I went to another place, but I stopped at noon again and invited Crackle to lunch with me. I didn't want him to go home, you see. I wanted to surprise him with a good dinner. "By the way," says he, looking embarrassed, as we loft the restaurant, " I forgot all about telling my wife I had invited company to dinner. Our cook went oft this xnorning, tho you will have to put up with pot luck." " Don't think of it, Crackle ; if there's any kind of a dinner sure to suit my taste, it's a pot-luck dinner." I called at his store at half -past five, and we went to his house together. Well, you better believe he opened his eyes when we went into the dining-room — I don't think Delmonico ever served a finer dinner. As course arter course came on he began to put on airs. " I'm thorry we can't do better for you," he says, complacently, "but our cook left us thith morning, and I forgot to tell wife I wath going to bring home a vithitor, If I had thought to speak to my caterer we might have had more of a spread." " More of a dinner than this !" " Oh, yeth, thith is only our wash-day dinner." My eyes happened to meet those of Miss Cackle— a perfect witch of a girl, about nineteen, pretty cis a picture, and full of fun ; I don't know what my eyes said, but she began to laugh. I thought it was heartless of her, so I asked, abruptly : "Who is Bob?" II Oh, poor, poor little Bob ! He is, or was, my little Spite. He was found dead this morning, and, if pa would own up, I believe he knows how it happened. Me was always afraid Bob would bite me and I would go mad." ♦ Oh-h ! By the way, Crackle," impolitely taking out my watch as the quail came on, " it is five minutes past the hour appointed for your sleigh-ride ; hadn't you better go ? / will excuse you." " My thlavride ?" " Well, ye 1 ;. I don't know as you'll forgi/e me, Crackle, but I'll own up and run the i isk. Before you came in this morning, your telephone kept calling. I had nothing to do so I answered it. You know we drummers are great fellows for practical jokes." " Was it you answered me?" asked Miss Crackle, blushing like a damask rose. '• Was it you answered we?" stammered Mrs Crackle, looking - s if she would sink through the floor. ' ' Yes, madam ; and as you said you had nothing but cold mutton in the house and j the butcher called for orders, 1 just thought I would tell him what to send up. I'm awful sorry, Crackle, I didn't hit off your taste better ! I thought I was ordering a first-rate dinner, but you call it a wash-day affair." " Never mind the dinner," says the lady, flashing a lightning look at her husband. " Tell me the name of the woman he agreed to take outsleigh-riding." "It was Aunt Jerusha, I suppose," says Crackle, trying to laugh. "I guess it must have been," say I, " for she told you not to forget to bring a pound of candy ; but I've made up my mind never to answer another man's telephone again — it's awkward.