wift impression
of antagonism again, of alertness and something more. When Maggie went
out, Miss Emily turned to me.

"She is very capable, I fancy."

"Very. Entirely too capable."

"She looks sharp," said Miss Emily. It was a long time since I had heard
the word so used, but it was very apt. Maggie was indeed sharp. But Miss
Emily launched into a general dissertation on servants, and Maggie's
sharpness was forgotten.

It was, I think, when she was about to go that I asked her about the
telephone.

"Telephone?" she inquired. "Why, no. It has always done very well. Of
course, after a heavy snow in the winter, sometimes--"

She had a fashion of leaving her sentences unfinished. They trailed off,
without any abrupt break.

"It rings at night."

"Rings?"

"I am called frequently and when I get to the phone, there is no one
there."

Some of my irritation doubtless got into my voice, for Miss Emily
suddenly drew away and stared at me.

"But--that is very strange. I--"

She had gone pale. I saw that now. And quite suddenly she dropped her
knitting-bag. When I restored it to her, she was very calm and poised,
but her color had not come back.

"It has always been very satisfactory," she said. "I don't know that it
ever--"

She considered, and began again. "Why not just ignore it? If some one is
playing a malicious trick on you, the only thing is to ignore it."

Her hands were shaking, although her voice was quiet. I saw that when
she tried to tie the ribbons of the bag. And--I wondered at this, in so
gentle a soul--there was a hint of anger in her tones. There was an edge
to her voice.

That she could be angry was a surprise. And I found that she could also
be obstinate. For we came to an impasse over the telephone in the next
few minutes, and over something so absurd that I was non-plussed. It was
over her unqualified refusal to allow me to install a branch wire to my
bedroom.

"But," I expostulated, "when one thinks of the convenience, and--"

"I am sorry." Her voice had a note of finality. "I daresay I am
old-fashioned, but--I do not like changes. I shall have to ask you not
to interfere with the telephone."

I could hardly credit my senses. Her tone was one of reproof, plus
decision. It convicted me of an indiscretion. If I had asked to take
the roof off and replace it with silk umbrellas, it might have been
justified. But to a request to move the telephone!

"Of course, if you feel that way abou