wouldn't answer. He didn't care
who was on the wire. He didn't want to talk to anybody. But no one can
resist the mechanical bell-ringers they use in exchanges nowadays--the
even-spaced ring and wait, ring and wait, so manifestly incapable of
discouragement. At the end of forty-five seconds, he snatched open his
door, punched the jack into its socket, caught up the head-piece, and
bellowed, "Hello!" into the dangling transmitter.

And then the look of annoyance in his face changed to one of
incredulous pleasure. "Good God!" he said. "Is that you, Barry Lake? Are
you here in Chicago? And Jane, too? How long you going to be here?...
Lord, but that's immense!"

And five minutes later he was calling Rose on the wire. "Rose, listen to
this! Barry Lake and his wife are here. He just called up. They got in
from New York at five o'clock, and I've asked them out to dinner. Barry
Lake and Jane! What's the matter? Can't you hear me?... Why, they're
about the best friends I've got. The magazine writer, you know, and his
wife. And they're coming out to dinner--coming right out. I told them
not to dress. I'll come straight home myself--get there before they do,
I guess.... Why, Rose, what's the matter? Aren't you well? Look here! If
you're below par, and don't feel like having them come, I can call it
off and go over to the hotel and dine with them.... You'd rather we came
out to the house? You're sure? Because they won't mind a bit. I can take
them to a restaurant or anywhere.... All right, if you're sure it won't
be too much for you. I'll be home in fifteen minutes. Lord, but it was
good to hear old Barry's voice again! I haven't seen him for over a
year. You're sure you'd rather?... All right. Good-by."

But he sat there frowning in a puzzled sort of way for half a minute
after he'd pulled the plug. Rose's voice had certainly sounded queer. He
was sure she hadn't planned anything else for to-night. He distinctly
remembered her saying just before he left for the office that they'd
have the evening to themselves. And it was incredible that she minded
his bringing home two old friends like the Lakes on the spur of the
moment, to take pot-luck. Oh, well, you couldn't tell about people's
voices over the telephone. There must have been something funny about
the connection.

An opportune taxi just passing the entrance to his office building as he
came out, enabled him to better the fifteen minutes he'd allowed for
getting home. But