The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 7 August 1913, Page 5

The Storyteller

THE ASHTON EXCHANGE Like a joyous young whirlwind, Rachel McCoy burst into the quiet home sitting-room. 'Mother McCoy !' she cried. ' I want you to listen, please!' 'I met Miss Chloe Deane down town,' Rachel began, ' and she asked me what I thought of taking the telephone exchange— it here, you know, in this house. They decided two weeks ago to give it up, now Mr. John's come back with money enough to take ca*tf of them. He says they mustn't bother with the thing any longer, and Miss Chloe and Miss Lydia are delighted. Right away they thought of me, and—' ' And I know what you thought of, right away,' said Mrs. McCoy, smiling. 'What I am always thinking of,' the girl replied, wistfully. 'lt means a way for my music at last, if you and father are willing to let me accept. With a year or two of saving I could begin.' Rachel had left her high school with one dear ambition —to study music, and in time to teach it. She had had small chance during school-days even to begin, although she had had a few lessons from the one instructor in town, Miss Lydia Deane, who soon had had ,to acknowledge that her pupil was overtaking her. So now Rachel's music was at a standstill. The family fortunes were too slender .to do more for her dream than buy a shiny piano, on the instalment plan and rack her brain as she would, there seemed no way to procure the means to the glorious end. Talent tingled in her finger-tips, but there, to all appearances, it was fated to remain. ' We'll talk it over with your father,' said Mrs. McCoy, secretly almost as excited as Rachel. ' I suppose old Mrs. Deane will have a holiday from now on.' *' Oh, old Mrs. Deane. She's not well, Miss Chloe saystakes no interest in their new plans, and won't eat. And that makes them all the gladder about giving up the exchange, especially as they're going on with their teaching* and sewing just the same. ' And, mother,' Rachel continued, ' I already' understand how to manage the switchboard, from helping when they were sick over there, and Miss Chloe says that a week or two more of practice will put me in good trim. And after a while, I can begin to save and save.' V■ • A family conference took place at supper, and 1 finally the great question was settled in the affirmative. Mrs. McCoy would assist Rachel in the work, and fourteen-year-old Linda might prove a great help. Ashton was ten miles from the railroad, and although most o'vits citizens owned telephones, the exchange was not a large one, and the three McCoys were confident that they could succeed with it. The future musician was on fire with happy expectation. **

The next day, ensconced: in the big front room at v the Deane house, which for fifteen, years had sheltered ~ the. local exchange, she began her training. While she sat. that morning busily responding to calls, it seemed as if Ashton were suddenly all one tongue; and from the next room, old Mrs. Deane's monotonous arguing with her elder daughter flowed' on like a vexing undercurrent. Into the girl's mind came a vision of the little old woman perched at this same window, bent crookedly before the board ■ throughout the changing seasons. Then the picture faded, and her absorbing, task went on, growing steadily easier and smoother, becoming more truly her own as she mastered it. Miss Chloe thrust her head in at the door. 'Rachel,' she said, ' ma's pestering me with a dozen things to tell you. Don't let Mary Watkins talk to young Mrs. Green more than ten minutes; she'll hold the line all night if you don't cut her off. And when Jasper Wright's house calls up his store, ring long and hard, because his children are forever falling into wells and things, and he has to be sent for in a hurry. And the Benson number has changed lately,; and Mercy, ma, isn't that all? She says, charge those Graham children to hang up their receiver, else it'll dangle all night and leak electricity.' She drew her head back like a turtle. The idea,' remarked Miss Lydia, 'of her lying there fretting over the telephone, when she's freed for once from slaving over it!' ' "".-,' Miss Lydia was the younger of the Deane sisters, and had always resented the presence of the exchange in her home. While her sister surrendered it rather from a sense of duty, Miss Lydia felt that she was bidding glad good-bye to a loquacious intruder. Miss Chloe came in the next day to help in case there should be any hitch. John's in yonder, trying to make mother laugh with his jokes,' she observed, as a bass voice boomed cheerily from the next room. ' The doctor looks puzzled; but the fact is, she's worn out with that switchboard. And we never could have got her away from it without John's help.' 'She used to seem so well, .always,' Rachel ventured. ' Yes,' replied Miss Chloe, ' but this reaction simply shows that she wasn't.' That second day, the work was troublesome. A thunderstorm had interfered with the current, and the wires seemed to twist and snarl with every call. In the afternoon Miss Chloe went down town, and the clamorous subscribers appeared to be taking advantage of her absence to confuse the young operator. . Rachel was repeating 'Number?' in weary crescendo, when she heard the wheels of Mrs. Deane's rolling-chair. A moment later the invalid was beside her. ' Such goings on !' complained a querulous old voice that never had been very cross before. ' Child, you've put every call through crooked for the past half hour. It takes me to mend the lightning's mischief; it takes me.' She raised herself to her feet by Rachel's shoulder, and stood peering down at her. The sharp tones softened, wheedling. . ' Honey, let me get there a minute; there's no reason why I shouldn't. Quick, before the girls come back!' Not without misgivings, Rachel yielded. She helped the old lady gently into the chair, arranged cushions and brought a footstool. Mrs. Deane went swiftly to work. The pathetic droop left her figure; in the waning light, her face was as eager as a child's. 'That you, Allie Burns? Scott's drug store's busy now. How's little Benjie's arm? . Too bad. Well, rub it well with the liniment I'm going to send down; now do as I tell you. Mrs. Wetherbridge, Charlie and Mac passed here, running uptown, ten minutes ago; heard 'em under my window. You can head 'em off at the court house. Listen, tell the Wares their black heifer has strayed off; I see her making for Denman's pasture. No. The doctor's gone down to Riverside, won't be back for an hour. My, my! Emily, put the baby in water as hot as she can stand; I'll ring up young Doctor Rice at the hotel. My, my!' So she went on; her deft fingers worked quickly, and every moment her face lighted with a different

expression. Rachel was stirred as she listened. All day ■ ; v she had been conscious of a vague exasperation with the switchboard, such as she remembered she had once felt toward a talking doll. ; Now the thing seemed a 7 throbbing medium that connected this lonely woman before her with the lives and hearts of her fellows. Mrs. Deane straightened a tangle here, smoothed\a rough place there; it was as if her small, knotted,hands were weaving upon some busy loom, spinning a web over .space. ';,. ;,-'. >- .' '-;'." Worker and watcher started simultaneously when ; Miss Lydia flung the door Open, and then turned with a little provoked cry: ' Chloe, will you look at mother?' As the wheel-chair disappeared into the bedroom, guided on either side by an aggrieved daughter, Rachel caught the sound of a quick sigh, a breath of combined exultation and disappointment. ' What,' Miss Chloe demanded, 'will the doctor say to this?' And the old lady's answer came, defiant, ' Tom Bruce can say on.' The girl . turned to her task. Over the buzzing wire a faint, incoherent speech came to her ear, an insistent call of which she could make nothing. Again and again she asked what was wanted, and she was almost in despair, when Mrs. Deane's voice rose clearly : Chloe, quarrel if you want to, but help me out of this bed. Yonder's little Harry Wilkins trying to call his mother. I know by the way Rachel answers. They've sent him away because of the children's scarlet fever, and this time every night he gets homesick. I let him talk to his ma five minutes, and then he goes to sleep. . But it takes me to get her past that trained nurse. Hand me my bedroom slippers.' When the patient had had her way, and Miss Chloe was putting her to bed again with the air of one recapturing a prisoner, Rachel gave her place to Miss Lydia, and slipped softly out of the house. Her day's work was done, all but one task. ' If I don't run,' she said to herself, sharply, ' I'll back down before I get there.' The windows of Doctor Bruce's little office were mellow with light when Rachel reached it, and the doctor was inside, stretched out comfortably in his chair for a brief rest in the early dark. . 'Well, Ray McCoy,' he said, as the girl slid down on a hassock beside him, and he put a hand on her fluffy hair. Many a burden Rachel had unloaded at the feet of the stalwart old doctor, physician to hearts 'as well as to bodies. And how's the invalid ? Have Chloe and Lydia conquered her yet ? I don't know how it is, but there's the smoke of battle in the air every time I call.' Rachel struggled with a laugh that rang feebly. ' Why, my sakes/ —the doctor's hand went under her chin, —' is your job too heavy for you, Miss Operator ?' ' Doctor Tom, what's the matter with old Mrs. Deane '. Now there you have me.' The doctor. grew serious. ' She's hale and hearty as a winter apple, naturally; she never had a nerve in her life. Now those girls, they're sure as daylight it's nervous prostration, and I might as well be talking to two deaf adders. But it's not body, and not nerves, and Doctor Bruce has struck a snag, that's all.' Rachel raised her head and looked at the doctor. 'I can tell you what the matter is with Mrs. Deane,' she said. The doctor chuckled. Let's have the diagnosis, Doctor McCoy.' ' She's pining to get back to that telephone. She's run it fifteen years, ever since she stopped walking. She's been at it the first thing in the morning and the last at night, and she hated to let the others take their turn.' , A Rachel told in detail the story of that afternoon, arid her companion listened silently. : ; >s 'I know,' he said, slowly, as if to himself, when she stopped. ' I remember. Weddings and funerals and births, goings and comings, formulas and receipts, and all the news of the four winds. Never talked it round, though; true to her trust. But it kept her in with the others. Loss of appetite, weakness, depression —h'm ! 'Twas the breath of life, sure enough. Don't

see why I didn't understand. Taking away her bread and butter, and then i standing back to watch her perk up.' He stroked Rachel's hair absently. ' Well, I'll cnahge the prescription, doctor,' he remarked, as she got to her, feet. But look here, Ray McCoy! I did a lot of thinking while you were talking. The medicine I take away from her you'll have to swallow. •' How about that V , . ' Rachel's answer was only a murmur. ' How about the musical career?' \ .' \ '-'-" 'Why, nothing about it,' she replied, stoutly; then as she went out, she turned to thrust her head back through the door. Next time you're baffled in a ease,-JDoctor Bruce,' she said, saucily. ' I'm at your service.'/ - ' " The following morning, when Doctor Bruce came softly up the Deane steps, he almost stumbled over the wheel-chair on the verandah. Mrs. Deane was sitting idle the untouched sewing had slid from her hands; in her old eyes, fixed on the far distance, was a look of listless indifference. The sight smote him. Martha,' he said, as he steered the chair into the house, ' I've come to change your treatment.' From a corner of the telephone-room Miss Chloe looked up with puckered brow and poised needle. 'There!. I had just settled mother out where it was cool - • ■': ' And we were going out presently to show her that lovely fancy stitch she's forgotten,' Miss Lydia chimed in. "'■'.■ .:' .;•:.;- \ , '■ ;-'.;' She doesn't want to remember any fancy stitch,' said the doctor, brusquely. Get up, Rachel.' He leaned over the wheel-chair, and lifting Mrs., Deane bodily, placed her in the chair that Rachel had left. . ' Now,' he remarked in a satisfied tone, as he fitted the ear-piece clumsily over the willing head, I've changed your medicine. One dose every morning for three hours, and every evening, late, for one.' The sisters were astonished, they were outraged; they doubted his sanity. 'Look here, girls,' commanded Doctor Bruce, when they were at last speechless. He had seen them both open their eyes to the light of day, and when he said ' Look,' they usually looked. ' Whose case is this?' Miss Chloe sniffed a little. ' But now, when there's no necessity for it any more.' she began, and when mother's sick from it, anyway' 'There is necessity,' the doctor asserted, ' and she's not sick from it, she's sick for it.' Miss Lydia, with two bright spots in her cheeks, rushed into the fray. 'Crippled, too,' she began. ' It's not Martha that's crippled, and, anyway, she doesn't work the switch-board with her feet; it's this town that's crippled for lack of telephone service. Ray, here, would make a first-rate pianoforte-tinkler, but Martha's got telephoning down to an art. Ashton's been demoralised ever since you two well-meaning blunderbusses drove her out of her corner. I can't and won't stand being rung up at all hours to tell the price of eggs, or whether I have fresh butter for sale any longer.' Rachel laughed. After consulting with another authority,' the doctor continued, soberly, ' I knew this to be the best course.' The two daughters were slightly mollified. After all, had he not brought the family back safely, for two generations, through a sea of ailments? ' You will have to shoulder the responsibility,' Miss Chloe said, grudgingly, after a moment. . That evening Rachel turned reluctantly into the doctor's little office when he hailed her. The day had seemed long since the hard hour of making explanations to her surprised family at the dinner-table. She had told her story briefly, without comment or complaint, and they, divining her state of mind, had received it' for the most part, in sympathetic silence. But it was impossible not to hear, as she left the room, Jimmie's ' Ho, the bounce has gone out of poor old Ray !' and her mother's gentle murmur. She decided instantly that the 'bounce' should come back, but the business

of regaining it had made the remainder of the day seem endless. " ' Here,' said the doctor, ' sit down, girl. I suppose you understand that you were working that exchange better than nine greenhorns out of ten could have worked it, don't, you? But a wizard couldn't fill Martha Deane's place. And the truth is, that was the only course to take after you opened my eyes.' He rose, lighted the gas, and then turned a searching look on his companion. And you knew it would be, Ray McCoy!' 'What other could there be?' replied Rachel, cheerily. • ' Martha didn't mean to be obstinate, the doctor said. ' She wasn't conscious of any crankiness at all. But she was flickering out like a lamp after the oil is gone.' ..'-..,'„ Rachel got to her feet. Wait a minute,' commanded Doctor Bruce. 'I, for one, am not going to have a hand in nipping that career of yours in the bud.' His big laugh rang through the little room. I've been talking with the directors of the telephone company for about the twenty-fifth time, and they've agreed at last that Ashton ought to give her operator a rise. Then I settled things with the Deanes. The girls jumped at my plan, and Martha, as long as she can peg away even a little at her old job, doesn't care if she never sees a red cent again, and said as much. So the upshot is, you're to do most of the work and draw most of the pay —that is, if you want the contract.' 'lf I want the contract!' exclaimed Rachel. 'And more than J "was expecting to earn !' ' Certainly,' said the doctor. ' That surplus is for your consultation fee. Now, let's call up our patient.' As he bent over the telephone, he pulled Ray's head down to a level with his own. 'Listen to Martha Deane, will you?' he whispered. ' Getting things to rights along the line. Bowling over her patrons like so many tenpins. Here, here, Central,' he broke in, 'can't you stop rigging your patrons long enough to answer your physician? How're you feeling to-night?' The little instrument in his hand seemed fairly to vibrate with the keen joy of the old voice that leaped back over the wire. 'Me, Tom Bruce? Fine as a fiddle!'