Said he was sick of the sight of him.They did not get on well together.""But your father must have used the telegraph since.""Yes.Father used it himself.He was a telegraph operator when he was a young man.Oh, you don't know what a wonderful man my father is! His story is like something in a book.He-- But never mind that.Hark! there is the instrument going again.It must be dreadfully important.Mr.Davis is so worried.""He seems to be, certainly."
"But what shall we do?"
"I wish I knew, but I don't.You know nothing of the particulars?""No.Nothing more than I have told you.Oh, CAN'T you help me? Ifeel somehow as if Father had left me in charge of his affairs and as if I must not fail.Now, when he is helpless! when he is...
Oh, can't YOU do something, Mr.Paine? I thought you might.You are a banker.""A poor imitation only, I am afraid.Let me think.Did you tell this man Davis of your father's illness?""No.I thought perhaps Father would not wish it.And I had no opportunity...Oh, dear! there is someone at the door again!
Who is it?"
Johnson's voice replied."It is me, Miss Mabel," he said."The telegraph person says he can't wait any longer.He 'asn't 'ad his supper.And there is a twenty-five-cent charge for bringing the message, Miss.""Tell him he must wait a minute longer," I answered, for her.
"Miss Colton, it seems to me that, whether we can do anything or not, we should know the particulars.Tell that man--Phineas Cahoon, the depot master, I suppose it is--that there is an answer and he must wait for it.Now let's consult that code."She took the code book and I picked up a sheet of paper and a pencil from the table.
"We must ask him to send all the particulars," I declared."Look up 'send' in the code, Miss Colton."She was turning the pages of the little book when the butler knocked once more.
"He says he can't send any message until morning, Miss Mabel.The telegraph office closes at eight o'clock."The code book fell to the table.Miss Colton stared helplessly at me.
"What SHALL we do?" she breathed.
I rose to my feet."Wait, Johnson," I called."Make that man wait a moment longer.Miss Colton, I have an idea.Would your father be willing to--but, that is silly! Of course he would! I'll see Cahoon myself."I found Phineas, long-legged and gaunt, sitting on the front step of the colonial portico.He had been invited into the hall, but had refused the invitation."I had on my workin' duds," he explained later."A feller that's been handlin' freight all the afternoon ain't fit to set on gold-plated furniture." He looked up in surprise as I came out.
"Well, for thunder sakes!" he exclaimed, in astonishment."It's Ros Paine! What in the nation are you doin' in here, Ros? Ain't married into the family, have ye? Haw, haw!"I could have kicked him for that pleasantry--if he had not been just then too important a personage to kick.As it was, his chance remark knocked my errand out of my head, momentarily.
"How's the old man, Ros?" he whispered."They tell me it's brought on by high livin', champagne wine and such.Is it?""Phin," said I, ignoring the question, "would you stay up all night for twenty dollars?"He stared at me.
"What kind of conundrum's that?" he demanded."'Would I set up all night for twenty dollars?' That may be a joke, but--""Would you? I mean it.Mr.Colton is sick and his daughter needs some one to send and receive messages over their private telegraph wire.She will pay you twenty dollars--or I will, if she doesn't--if you will stay here and do that for her.Will you?"For a minute he sat there staring at me.
"You mean it, Ros?" he asked, slowly."You do, hey! I thought p'raps--but no, it's long past April Fool day.WILL I do it? Show me the telegraph place quick, afore I wake up and come out of the ether.Twenty dollars! Consarn it, I send messages all the week for twelve, and hustle freight and sell tickets into the bargain.
I ain't had no supper, but never mind.Make it twenty-five and I'll stay all day to-morrer."I led him into the library and explained his presence to Miss Colton.She was delighted.
"It is SO good of you, Mr.Cahoon," she exclaimed."And you shan't starve, either.I will have some supper sent in to you at once.
You can eat it while you are at work, can't you?"She hurried out to order the supper.Phineas, in accordance with my request, seated himself in the little room adjoining the library, before the telegraph instrument.
"Thunder!" he observed, looking about him."I never expected to send messages for King Solomon in all his glory, but I cal'late Ican stand it if Sol can.S'pose there'd be any objection to my takin' off my coat? Comes more nat'ral to work in my shirt sleeves."I bade him take it off and he did so.
"This feller's in some hurry," he said, nodding toward the clicking instrument."Shall I tell him we're on deck and ready for business?""Yes, tell him."
His long fingers busied themselves with the sender.A sharp series of clicks answered the call.Phineas glanced apprehensively out into the library.
"Say, he ain't no parson, is he?" he chuckled."Wants to know what in hell has been the trouble all this time.What'll I tell him?""Tell him to send particulars concerning L.and T.at once.All the particulars."The message was sent.The receiver rattled a hasty reply.
"He says you know all the particulars already.You must know 'em.
Wants to know if this is Mr.Colton."
"Tell him Mr.Colton is here, in the house.That will be true enough.And say we wish all particulars, figures and all.We want to know just where we stand."The demand for particulars was forwarded.There was more clicking.
"Give me a piece of paper and a pencil, quick," urged Phineas.
"This is a long feller."
While he was writing the "long feller," as the telegraph ticked it off, Miss Colton and the butler appeared, the latter bearing a loaded tray.He drew a little table up beside the operator and placed the tray upon it.Then he went away.The telegraph clicked and clicked and Cahoon wrote.Miss Colton and I watched him anxiously.
