all the world so bored as the voice of a small town
telephone-operator.

"You called," I said.

"Beg y'pardon. Must have been a mistake," she replied glibly, and cut me
off.

II

It may be said, and with truth, that so far I have recorded little
but subjective terror, possibly easily explained by my occupancy of an
isolated house, plus a few unimportant incidents, capable of various
interpretations. But the fear was, and is today as I look back, a real
thing. As real--and as difficult to describe--as a chill, for instance.
A severe mental chill it was, indeed.

I went upstairs finally to a restless night, and rose early, after only
an hour or so of sleep. One thing I was determined on--to find out,
if possible, the connection between the terror and the telephone. I
breakfasted early, and was dressing to go to the village when I had
a visitor, no other than Miss Emily herself. She looked fluttered and
perturbed at the unceremonious hour of her visit--she was the soul of
convention--and explained, between breaths as it were, that she had come
to apologize for the day before. She had hardly slept. I must forgive
her. She had been very nervous since her brother's death, and small
things upset her.

How much of what I say of Miss Emily depends on my later knowledge, I
wonder? Did I notice then that she was watching me furtively, or is it
only on looking back that I recall it? I do recall it--the hall door
open and a vista of smiling garden beyond, and silhouetted against the
sunshine, Miss Emily's frail figure and searching, slightly uplifted
face. There was something in her eyes that I had not seen before--a
sort of exaltation. She was not, that morning, the Miss Emily who ran a
finger along her baseboards to see if we dusted them.

She had walked out, and it had exhausted her. She breathed in little
gasps.

"I think," she said at last, "that I must telephone for Mr. Staley, I am
never very strong in hot weather."

"Please let me call him, for you, Miss Emily." I am not a young woman,
and she was at least sixty-five. But, because she was so small and
frail, I felt almost a motherly anxiety for her that morning.

"I think I should like to do it, if you don't mind. We are old friends.
He always comes promptly when I call him."

She went back alone, and I waited in the doorway. When she came out, she
was smiling, and there was more color in her face.

"He is coming at once. He is always very thoughtful