Billy's Telephone Girl. [By Luke Sharp.]

Evening Post, Volume L, Issue 114, 9 November 1895, Page 1 (Supplement)

Billy's Telephone Girl. [By Luke Sharp.]

The city editor sat at his table hard at work, the green-shaded eleotric lamp which hung by a stout cord from the ceiling throwing a white ohole of lijfht on the paper over which his pencil travelled. BanWell smoke la cigar; he was always well provided with cigars. The chief of a local staff on an af teiuoon paper may always be recognised by the faot that you can extract f<-ood cigars from almost any part of his clothes. On the opposite side of the table from where Banwell sat was a big canebottomed oliair with arms on it. Into this chair slid Billy M'Guffy, the youngest reporter, somewhat apologetically as far as demeanbur went. Banwell cast one brief glance at him through the smoke, saw who it was, and went on with hia work without speaking. Billy, evidently embarrassed, said nothing for a while, until his presence there began to irritate Banwell, who cried sharply: — "Well, what is UP" Billy oleared his throat. "Mr. Banwell," ho began at last, " could you let me have passes for two to the ' All For Love Company ' at the Spectacular Theatre for Christmas Eve?" "Passe* for two?" repeated Banwell, shoving the shade over his eyes far up on his forehead, and gazing across the table at Billy. »• If you please." "For twoP" reiterated Banwell, with unnecessary emphasis on the laot word. Billy's eyes in some confusion sought the floor. Ban well, the unmerciful, raised his voice and shouted : " Oh, Jonetey, come here quick ! Billy's gone wrong ! he wants theatre tickets lottwo !" Jonesey appeared from the next room and stood leaning against the door, lookIng at Banwell and M'Guffy. He was in his shirt-sleeves, lank and lean, with a corncob pipe, black with, use, between his teeth. Jonesey was the criminal reporter, briefly known to the rast of the staff as "The Criminal." "What's the matter with our Billy?" naked "The Criminal," without removing tkia pipe. " He wants tiokets for two," explained Banwell. "That's unusual; one has sufficed up to date. 'Ihia means a girl, Jonetey." '* Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to Bay that, Banwell. Perhaps Billy wants to take his mother to the theatre. Let's hoar what the oulprit has to say for himself before we pass judgment. Who is she, Billy P But, remember, you are not bound to incriminate yourself?" Billy was blushing like a girl himself. He looked appealingly from one of hut tormentors to the other. He would have flod, but he knew hi could not escape, for "Banwell," continued Jonesey imperturbably, " I fear that heightened colour in Billy's face gives him away rather. We must prepare lor the -worst. Now, if my frightful example has no effect upon him, perhaps he's not too far gone to scorn my good advice. Billy, I have one wife and six children. That's the awful example. My advice is that it is just as easy aud as pleasant to fall in love with a millionaire's daughter as with a shop-girl. I consider I have lost at least 200,000 dollars by not knowing that when I was young, and I have never been able, somehow, to make it up working on a newspaper. Billy, be warned in time." " Look here," cried Billy, anger at last coming to his rescue,' " if I'm not going to got the tickets, say so." " Oh, you can get the tickets, Billy, unless they're all gone, and if they are I will give y<m a letter to. tho box-office. Let's see — Christmas Eve, that's the 24th this year, iiu'tit?" Bauwcll pulled open a drawer and took out a handful of long pasteboard tickets with the corners clipped off, and selecting two, flung them over to Billy, who put them in his /vest pocket, murmuring his thanks. Joresey stretched bis arms across the doorway, saying, " Billy, my son, pause and refleot." But Billy, orying"Ob, you go to the deuce !" dodged under and escaped. Both men laughed, and Jonesey went back to his own room. Billy made his way out tof the Argus office into the street. The night was cold and the pavement crisp with frost. It was not snowing exactly, but flakes here and there flittered through the electric light, fluttering down on the street. Billy walked briskly for a block or two, and glanced up at a tall building that rose from a corner. The bulk of the building was dark, with an isolated window lighted here and there, but the whole of the upper story was ablaze with eleotrio lamps. As Billy looked up he could see against the sky apparently all the wires of the city, from every direction, concentrating on the roof of this tall building. He entered and walked, down the dimly lighted hall to the elevator standing at the end of the passage, waiting, for there were few upward travellers at that hour. The night-boy evidently knew where Billy was going, for he winked and without a word pulled the wire rope shooting the elevator to the top story, where Billy got out. The young reporter went up still another flight of steps and paused at an open door, looking into a great, brilliantly lighted room. Facing the walls, on high stools, gat some dozens of girls, apparently playing games with pegs on a continuous brass checker board that extended liko a yellow dado around the room. Their voices reached Billy as hie stood by the door. "Hello! Did you get them?" "What number did you say?" "Six-nought-four?" "Are yon through talking ?" " I'm afraid there a no one there." " King off when you've finished," and auoh like phrases formed the babel caused by the girl's voices. The girls had small, round discs fastened to their ears, and each heard only what was intended for her to hear. Each had her hands free to place the pegs or ting up a subscriber. It was the city telephone exchange. Perhaps it was the free magnetism of electricity in the place ; perhaps it was Billy's earnest hypnotic gaze concentrated on one girl that made her turn her head, seemingly without cause, and glance towards the door. Billy nodded, aud she, calling an assistant to take her place, slipped gracefully down from the tall stool and went quickly out into the ball. "Hello, Billy," she sad, cordially, "whafitoP" " I am,' T answered Billy, flippantly, "up about fifteen flights of stairs/ "The elevator hasn't stopped yet, has it ?" " Oh, no ; I caught the elevator all right. But I had to climb the last flight. I just dropped in to let you know that I got the theatre tiokets all right." " Good for you," oried the girl. " GalleryP" . " Gallery !" said BDly, with great contempt. " Not likely ! Best seats in the house— three rows from the front — and Beats in the row ;" and to prove his amazing contention, Billy produced the tickets from hia pocket and exhibited them. The telephone girl took them to 1 look at, and asked many questions. Why were the cornets dipped off P she wanted to know. That was ao they would not be counted as cash when the receipts were made up, Billy explained. Suddenly something on the tickets caught the girl's attention, and stopped her talk. " Why, Billy," she said after a pause, " these ticket* arc for the 24th." "Of course— Christmas Eve. That's all right, isn't it?" " Aren't they good for any other night ?" " I guess not. Can't you go that night ?' ? It was evident that Billy's telephone girl had a temper of her own. She throw the tickets ou the floor and stamped her foot angrily. Billy meekly picked up the bits of pasteboard. "Of course I can't sro, I'm on duty Christmas Eve. Why didn't you telephone to me and ask what night I could go ? You knew I was at the end of your wire, and you would have done it if you cared anything for me." "Look here, Sadie," protested Billy. "I can't talk to you over the wire. The fellows in the local room can hear everything I say, and that brute Jonesey guys me enough already. But it doesn't matter. I can get the tiokets changed." " You don't need to bother ohanging them for me. I gness you wanted to take gome other gixl anyhow. ' ' " I shouldn't wonder," said Billy, exasperated at the unreasonableness of woman, " but there's lots of girls would be glad to go." " All right," said Sadie, with decision. "Invite 'em to go, then: and look here, Billy M'Guffy, don't you ever come to see me again." Sadie turned with dignity and left Billy standing there. The quarrel had come on him so suddenly that he had hardly realised it was all over. Knowing that he dared not follow her in the busy telephone exchange to explain things, and not being quite sure what there was to explain, ho concluded to tbink over the crisis and see if there was a way out. He walked slowly down the numerous flights of stairs and out into the keen air. Instinotively his steps turned towards the Argus office. The local room was empty, all th« boya being out at that hour attending to their duties in various parts of the city. Billy knew that he ought to be out as well, but he aat in his chair with his head in his hands. The bottom had unexpectedly dropped out of the universe, and even Billy's allegiance to his paper wavered under the shock of the catastrophe. For fully five minutes

sheet Bcored a triumph over him or not. Things are pretty black when it coiuoa to this with a youug reporter. At last, he rnsn, wout to the telephone, and rang the bell. " Hello, Sadie," he said, "may I apoak with you a moment?" "What number, please?" came the sweet but unrelenting voice of Sadie. ' " I dou't want any number ; I want you, dadie." "If you don't want a number what did you ring for? This is the telephone exchange. If you dou't want anything I'll turn you off." " You've turned me off already, Sadie; and Ido want something. I want to know what night you can go with me to the theatre?" •'Look here, [Mr. M'Guffy— l suppose that's who it is talking — I won't po to the theatre any night with you. Take the other girL< you were bragging about." Before Billy oould way anything more he heard the ominous click that "turned him off." He had done all he could, so, with a sigh, he buttoned hia overcoat about him and went out to his work. When he came back at eleven, the local rooms were full of men busily writing. The city editor was at his table, with the green shade over his eyes. Billy placed the two tickets on the table before him and said somewhat huskily : "I'm much obliged, Mr. Banwell, for the tickets, but I've changed my mind, and perhaps some of the others would like to go that night." "What !" cried Banwoll, " wouldn't she go, or is she going with another fellow ?" Then, glancing up and seeing the look of pain on Billy's face, Banwell, who was a kindly man, added, "That's all right, Billy Any other night, you know." " I'll — I'll remain on duty on Christmas Eve, if you don't miud," said Billy. " Good for you," cried Banwell, enthusiastically, to cover Billy's evident confusion. "We're short-handed that night, and Jonesey wants to get off, of course. That's what it is to be a family man. Billy, you're a brick." The editor reached up for his asbignment book and wrote down the fact that M'Guffy would be on deok Christmas Eve. At half -past nine on Christmas Eve Billy entered the Argus office. There was no apparent reason why he should be there, and there Were many reasons why at that moment he should have been on his own beat. He looked quickly around the rooms, and satisfied himself that they were empty. Then he hastily rang the telephone bell. "Sadie," he whispered into the tube. " Well P"' came the answer. " I just wanted you to know, Sadie, that I'm on duty to-night." " Oh, is that you, Billy ? I thought you were in the end seat, third row— or was it the fourth ?" Billy thought he heard something like a curious combination between a sob and a laugh— one can never tell exactly what sound it is that comes over a telephone wire ; electricity plays such tricks with its customers. " Sadie, may I call you up as soon as it strikes twelve, and .wish you a Merry Christmas?" " Billy." Theie was a leng pause, then the whisper, with something of a banter, continued. "Anybody can call up anybody else on a telephone, you know. Good night." Sadie sat at her work as the night went on, and now and then glanced at the little watch which formed part of the bracelet surrounding her dainty wrist. Midnight came, but there was no ring from Billy. There came many calls from people who wished "Merry Christmas" over the wires, and Sadie listened to them and wondered, why hers did not come. She eighed. and told herself that she did not do-serve the greeting, .for she yearned for Billy and wanted to tell him how sorry she was ; but, of courte, tshe could not make the ! first move, and merely because she had been in the wrong, Billy would have to emooth the Way with extra deftness. It was nice of him to telephone to her when the play was going on so that she might be sure he was not sitting there with anothtr girl, whose company, after all, he would have been perfectly justified in seeking, considering the way he had been treated. Fur half an hour after midnight, Sadie was kept very busy, then the calls almost ceased. It was nearly 1 o'clock when a sharp_ring came in. No, it was not Billy's voice. " Give me one-nought-six-four, quick !" Now, it invariably irritates a telephone girl to be told to be quick. She is always quick. It is worse than swearing, for when a man swears over the wires, the girl may shut him off and report him. The " quiok" arousedMissSadie'stemper, but she said nothing ; 1064 was the number of the Blade editorial rooms, and Sadie knew that the Blade was the rival of Billy's paper, the Argus. Sadie always called the Argus Billy's paper, although, as a matter of fact, it belonged to a company. "Hello! Is that the Blade editorial rooms P Is Barker there ? Well, ask him to step to the 'phone, will you please ? Tell him to hurry up. It's Stokes." There was a pause. Then Sadie heard Barker's heavy step, and finally his "Hello! That you, Stokes? This is Barker." "See here, Barker, there's the biggest thing on to-night, and we've got the dead wood on the Argus if we work it right. There has been a Christmas Eve Jamboree in the Italian quarter, at 768, Brenner Street. Fellow named Mileni — M-i-1-e-n-i, got that P pulled a knife. Two men are dead and one's so bad, he'll die before morning. A woman brained Mileni with a chair." "Who's on that beat for the Argun?" cried Barker, breathlessly. "Oh, I've fixed that all right. Bill M'Guffy is the Argus man, and he's as green as they make 'em; I had a fellow with a buggy call for Billy, and tell him a cock-and-bull story about a frightful railway accident at Bloomfield, three miles beyond the city limits. Billy's gone with him' and won't be home until morning. Billy thinks he is going to make his eternal reputation on that railroad disaster. Now, if you've got your pencil sharpened, I'll give you the particulars of the Mileni murder. Stokes talked and Barker took it all down, punotuating the narrative with "Yes" now and then. Sadie, with the telephone receivers over her ears, listened aud also took it down on the fly-leaf of a book she had been reading. Her lips were set in a firm line as she thought of poor Billy on hit wild-goose chase through the bitter night. That, then, was why he had not telephoned to her. At last Stokes finished his account of the tragedy. Sadie had made up her mind what to do, although she knew it was wrong, and that Bhe would lose her place if she were found out. But she thought of Billy and not of her position. She knew the value of time on a morning paper, for she had been on the newspaper wires for some months. There was no use in waiting till Billy called her up, it would be too late then, ho she put in the plug that communicated with the Argus office and rang the bell. When the " hello " came she asked who was there. ' ' Banwell, city editor. Who's that talking?" "This is Billy-Billy M'Guffy." " Hello, Billy, what's the matter with you ? Where have you been to all the night ?" "Say, Banwoll, there has been a frightful tragedy up here -No. 768, Brenner- 1 street — got that down ?" "Yes. Hurry it along. Billy, I can tell by your voice you're scared ; you talk like a girl." " That's all right. It would scare anybody. There's two men dead and another on the way." " Heavens and earth ! Wait a second, Billy, till I whit-tle up the foroman to save us a couple of columns." There was a pause of a few beconda, Then Ban well's voice again : " Now, Billy, whoop her up." Sadie gave full particulars and then added: "You'd belter send a man up to Brenner- street as soon as you can. I'm done out and am going home." " Hold on," cried Ban well. " Hold on, Billy. Where are you ?" But the telephone had been rung off and Banwell's question was unanswered. Sadie sat back and looked at herself in the little bit of glass she kept by her. "Well, I don't care," she said to herself. "I've done it, aud I'm not the least bit sorry, though I suppose I ought to be." The face that looked back at her was rather pale, and in epite of her defiant assertion to herself bhe was just a little afraid, for she knew ehe hud broken the ttrini© it rule of the company's code. About four oclock in the morning a call came. It was Irom the Argus Office, and Sadie's answer had a tremble in it. " Hello !" said the voice. "Is tint you, Sadie? A Merry Christmas! I'm a litt'e later than I expected to be." "You are, Billy," replied the girl. " How's everything out at Bloomfield ?" " Gracious ! How did you know I was at Bloomfield? I've juet got back, and carao to this office aud to the telephone the first thing." " That was a bad railroad accident they had out there, wasn't it, Billy?" " Great Heavens ! Sad c, you're a witch. How in thunder did " "Billy, you mustn't use language like that to the Central. I'll report you if you do. Oh, I forgot. The same to you, Billy. Is Mr. Banwell ihere?" '< No ; they've all gone home, and I can hear the presses in the basement running off the paper. Sadie, may Igo over there ?" "No, Billy ; not just now. I'll be free at six o'clock, then you may come over and see me home. You draw up a ohair near the 'phono and go to sleep, like a good boy. At «x o'clock I'll ring you up as if the i _ _ <* _ T*ll „,«;* few ir/\n of rhd

door downstaira. Remember, 1 must bei you Woiu you meet Bauwell or any of thi rest." "All right," said Billy. He drew up a chair and threw hhnaril into it. It seemed to him that he had hardly .-•fated himself when he was awakened by the long ring of the telephone bell at bi.\ o'clock. He stumbled downstairs, trying to button up his overcoat and rub his eyes open at the same time. Downstairs the watchman handed him a copy of the paper damp from the press. The moming was crisp and dear, and the street wa-< ."■trangely silent. Billy glanced at the first page, and instantly his eyes opened wider than they had done for all bis rubbing. He read the startling headlines :— Frightful Chbistmas Tragedy. Drink, Anger and a Knife work Fearful Havoo in Brenner-street. TWO MEN INSTANTLY KILLED, AND A TIUBD DIES THIS MOBNINQ. "Oh dear ! oh dear ! oh dear !" wailed Billy. "I'm a goner this time, sure. I knew it would come some day. Right in the middle of my district, too ! and me fooling around the suburbs — jackass that I am. I wonder who got it, and Banwell so shorthanded. Well, it's all up -with Bill M'G uffy. I'll not wait to be fired, I'll send in my resignation before noon." He jammed the paper into his overcoat pocket, and hurried along the frocty pavement to the telephone exchange building, where he found Sadie standing at the door waiting for him. Sh& looked so pretty iv the clear morning air, with her natty furbordered cloak around her, that Billy almost forgot his trouble as he gazed admiringly at her. She was the first to speak. "Oh Billy," she cried, coming rapidly towards him, " I've done the most dreadful thing !" "So have I," said Billy. " But I'll lose my situation if I'm found out." " I'm found out now," replied Billy, with a sigh,' " and my situation as good as gone already. But tell me about your trouble first." And Sadie told him as they walked together up the deserted avenue. Billy, being innocent and young at that time, had never suspected that he had been sent boyond the city limits by the villains of the opposition press until Sadie had finished her story. The man in the buggy had been so sorry he had been misinformed, and he had been kind enough to take Billy back to the very door of the Argus office at 4 o'clock in the morning. " Yes, Billy," admitted Sadie, when Billy accused himself of being a fool (they were standing in the porch of the house where the young woman lived, and she was trying to find her pocket and the latch key). "Ye?, Billy, you are green. You never know enough to do the right thing at the right moment." " Oh, don't I !" said Billy ; whereupon, to her infinite surprise, he kissed her as she stood there. "Oh, Billy," she cried, oatching her breath; "I didn't think yon had the courage." All of which goes to show that a young man on a daily paper learns many things as time goes on, which thought passed through Billy's mind as ho modestly and silently listened to Mr. Ban well's compliments that afternoon on his enterprise and wide-awakeness of the night before.