ked her just in time,
and then, with a rather uncertain and tremulous touch of the key she
answered,

"Good morning! wait--am busy!"

"One untruth!" she thought to herself, as "C" became mute, "not the only
one I shall have to tell, I fear, before I succeed in conveying my exact
meaning to the understanding of--the person. I will pick a quarrel, if
possible, and he persists in talking! Oh, dear! I could have endured the
red hair, even those dreadful teeth, had it not been for the
bear's-grease and general vulgarity of the creature. Well, it's all over
now!" and she sighed, from which it may be inferred that Jo's
admonitions had not been of much consolation to her.

We do not take the lessons our experience teaches us, to heart
immediately; first, their bitterness must be overcome.

To Nattie's great relief, the wire happened to be very busy that
morning, but whenever it was possible "C" called her, and called in
vain.

Immediately after her return from dinner, however, having just received
and signed for a message, "C," the moment she closed her key, said,

"Where have you been to-day? are you not glad to have me back again? it
cannot be I am so soon forgotten?"

Unable to avoid answering, Nattie responded on the wrong side of truth
again. "Have been busy; wait, please, a customer here."

"I cannot help saying, confound the luck!" "C" responded, savagely. To
which anathema Nattie turned up her nose scornfully, and made no reply.

The nervous dread of his "calling," that was upon her all day, caused
her to make more blunders than she had ever done in all her telegraphic
career. She gave wrong change continually, numbered her messages
incorrectly, and "broke" so much that the operator who sent to her had a
headache with ill-humor. Usually very quick at deciphering the illegible
scrawls often handed her for transmission, she to-day was frowned at for
her stupidity in making them out; and one lady to whom a message was
sent through poor Nattie's office, was much exercised on receiving it,
to learn over an unknown gentleman's signature, that he would be with
her at midnight. He really was her husband, but Nattie had transmitted
the name the writing looked most like, which was one very remote from
the real one.

All these mistakes she laid at "C's" door, and grew more disgusted with
him, accordingly, especially when she counted her cash, and found
herself a dollar short. She managed, however, by frequent excuses,