MOTHER FLAHERTY'S TELEPHONE.
There was great merriment in Littleton over the advent of the telephone.
The women gossips gathered with their babies in their arms and even the
men (whom no one would venture thus to name) smoked and stood about in
groups during all the long summer evenings, to discuss this latest
marvel. Among them, with many differences of opinion, there was much
laughter and disclaiming. Old Mrs. Flaherty declared, amid her giggles,
that "the two eyes av the craythur fairly give her a turn," and when
asked to explain she pointed to the gongs at the top of the apparatus.
Lucy Hapgood had heard of live wires, and shrank from touching even the
receiver till repeatedly assured there was no danger of electrocution.
And when at last she did consent to put it to her ear, and heard her
father calling to her from Cole's grocery, she shrieked with astonished
awe. For the telephone was as little known in this hamlet as if it had
been situated a thousand miles from the metropolis, instead of less than
two-score. The limitations of poverty are great, and even fifty-cent
fares to the city were seldom compassed, except where, possibly, a legal
holiday and a wedding fell on the same day, and the occasion was made
memorable by an outing. Even then the returned travelers would have
little to relate, except such scenes as clustered around the great depot
with its neighboring lodging-houses and saloons. Of parks, galleries,
museums, libraries, and palatial dwellings, these tourists scarcely
dreamed, and never thought to visit. All dread those things they do not
understand, and these people would have told you they had no wish to see
such places; they were out of their line.
So all of the older and more conservative Littletonians looked with open
disfavor upon the new "speaking machines," and some absolutely refused
to use them. In fact, a few did not hesitate to say such doings smacked
of the evil one, and one old dame set her sudsy arms akimbo and stoutly
defied the electricians to enter her house.
"You kin string up them wires from here to Jerichy, if you want to," she
said sternly, letting her lance-like eyes rove in scornful leisure over
their equipment, "but you can't bring 'em inside my dure. No, sir! I
don't want any voices rousin' me up at all hours of the day an' night.
If folks at 'tother end o' town wants to speak to me they knows where to
find me. I'm a respictable widdy lady what keeps to home and minds my
own washin', and they can't no man nor woman, nuther, get a chance to
sass me through any mash-ine. No, sir! I know that young Early. He's got
a scheme to see all thet's a-goin' on amongst us day and night, and I
won't have it. Tain't decent, and they ain't no law on his side. So jest
git along with you now, and don't take up my time a-wranglin', for I've
got work to do, if you haven't."
The men, who had stood in dazed silence, looking sheepishly at each
other, went meekly on their way, and one home, at least, boasted no
telephone. Indeed, to establish that exchange which was Joyce's dream,
seemed for a time a ridiculous failure. The attempt to make these people
understand that only good was intended them seemed positively useless.
When it was again and again reiterated, by means of printed dodgers shed
broadcast among the homes, by Dalton's talks to the boys in the factory
at the closing hour, even by Marie Sauzey's urgings over the wire from
the central office, that every stringent need, or helpful offer, was to
be communicated to her by telephone, they simply winked at each other,
and, hanging up the receiver, whispered to any who happened to be
present,
"Didn't I tell you, now? It's spies they are, and nothin' else. Sorra a
word do they get out o' me this day!"
But one morning, poor old Mother Flaherty suffered a sad accident when
quite alone in her cottage. Trying to balance herself on an uncertain
chair, in her effort to reach a bottle of medicine on the top shelf of
her cupboard, her rickety support gave way and let her down with cruel
celerity. Her poor old bones were brittle and snapped with the
concussion. When she tried to raise herself, after her momentary groans
and exclamations, she found it impossible, for the left femur was
broken. She wavered for a time between spells of semi-consciousness, and
rousings to fresh shrieks and wails, the pain growing momently more
agonizing and the floor more intolerable in its cold and hardness. But
the shouts of some children out at play drowned her feeble old voice in
happier sounds, and no one heard. She had given herself up to a lonely,
horrible death when her wild, roving gaze fell upon the telephone not
three feet away, and she remembered the oft-repeated injunction to tell
her wants into its non-committal ear. She had no faith in the thing, and
was half-afraid of it, believing it a temptation of Satan, but the
situation had become unbearable. Flesh weakened and spirit failed. She
would try it as a last resort, then cross herself and die. Dragging
herself painfully with groans and sobs, she managed to reach up with a
broomstick and jog a faint ring out of the gong, at the same time
shouting at it in a fury of horror and anxiety,
"Help! Help! Help! I'm kilt intirely. I want a do-octhor!"
The confused sounds that reached Marie were vibrating with trouble and
despair, but that long-drawn "do-octhor" came plainly enough for her to
know what was needed, though she could get no response to her agitated
questioning. She called Dr. Browne up at once, and sent him flying. Poor
Mrs. Flaherty, meanwhile, had sunk back, almost spent with her painful
exertion, thinking in her desolation,
"It's no good at all, at all! And now I must die unshriven, wid that
awful sin on me sowl."
But suddenly the blissful clatter of a man's quick footsteps aroused
her, and she saw, as in a vision, the door thrown wide, and the doctor's
commiserating face bending above her. His outbreak, "Well, well, well,
this _is_ a fix!" sent comfort to her failing consciousness as, with a
groan of relief, she slipped into blissful oblivion.
There was no time for talk that day, but when the old creature was
resting in her cast, with her nerves soothed into quietude, the next,
she looked up at her daughter, who had hurried to her bedside, and asked
huskily,
"Norah, tell me thrue; was it the spakin'-mash-ine did it?"
"Did what, mother?"
"You know, don't yez? Did it bring the docthor?"
"Why, yes. When you called up the central, of course they 'phoned the
doctor, and so----"
"Norah, will yez shtop thot gabblin', now? What does I be knowin' of
centhrals, and all thot? Can't you answer plain, yis or no? Did the
spakin'-mash-ine get me the docthor?"
"Yes, mother, it did."
"Thin I'm beholden to it. And I take back all me hard woords and
thochts. Give me another sup o' thot cordial, now, till I go to slape.
And ye may tell the neighbors, fur me, thot I've thried and I know yez
can get what ye nade fur the askin' out o' thim mash-ines. Now be off
wid yez--I'm going to slape."
Of course the word spread, and those who had been wise enough to say
little in disfavor of the innovation plumed themselves upon their
superior information, while the ranters against it were temporarily
silenced. Joyce, who was burning with impatience over their slow
acceptance of her benefits, fairly ached to go among them with vigorous
exhortations, even commands, but the Madame restrained her.
"I wouldn't, Joyce," she said in her ruminant tone. "Let them find out
things for themselves. It is the only true wisdom, and nobody wants even
cake thrust down his throat. Try the Lord's way, child. We are slower in
accepting His good gifts than these people are to believe in yours, yet
He waits patiently, and in time we learn their worth."
One morning, however, soon after Mrs. Flaherty's accident, Joyce made an
errand into the central office, and while waiting for some distant
connection to be made ventured to ask some questions of Marie who, alert
and bright-eyed, sat in her wheeled chair, so adjusted that the
switch-board was within easy reach.
"You don't have much to do here, they tell me," she began, smiling at
the little Frenchwoman in friendly fashion.
Marie now knew Miss Lavillotte as the resident on the knoll, who was
popularly supposed to be interested in schools, possibly with the
intention of teaching some day, and who had means enough to run a modest
establishment of her own. She answered eagerly,
"But, yes, by times I do. It is the young people that do use it most,
though. Dose old ones, they so mooch vork do all the day that they will
not yet take time to learn so that it seem not strange to them. It will
be otherwise in time."
"Do they tell their needs at all?" began Joyce, when Marie had to answer
a call, and sat smiling in that way which seems meaningless to a
looker-on while some one's voice holds the attention at the other end.
Presently she answered in quick tones. "Yes, it is so indeed. I will
make note, and see if it may have answer. Yes. Oh, but that is true!
Yes. All right, Good-by."
Joyce longed, yet hesitated, to ask what the communication had been,
when Marie turned to her.
"You but now did ask, 'Do they tell their needs?' and this was one."
"Really? What was it? Pray tell me! Could it be gratified? I'd so like
to know."
Marie smiled at the eagerness of her visitor.
"I tell you, then. It was Mr. Gus Peters, who want somebody to make him
one easel, with a drawing-board that will slide up and down easy, for
one nice sharp knife with three blade that he will give in exchange. He
laugh w'en he say it, as if he think it no use, though."
"But it ought to be of use. Let's think, Marie. Who can do such things?
Somebody that needs a nice knife. Some bright boy, say, with a head for
such work."
Marie thought a minute.
"There is a boy," she said slowly. "He is not good for mooch, but he
like that whittle kind of work, I know."
"Poor child! His mother, she is dead, and his father he have no time to
be kind to him, I think, so he wander about and pick up the job here and
there. It is he that might do this easel."
"Just the thing! Only he couldn't get the materials together, I
fear--wait! Where does he live?"
"In a leetle house back behind of the Vorks, and a seester zat ees older
do housekeep, I believe. She is--not good." Marie spoke reluctantly, and
turned sad eyes upon Joyce.
"Oh! that is dreadful," cried the latter. "Perhaps--ah! a ring."
Marie was kept busy awhile, several calls succeeding each other rapidly.
"Ah! they do plan to make me confuse," she laughed presently, turning
back to Joyce. "See! I have these demands, and they do all laugh as they
say them. Lucie Hapgood, she desire a nice ribbon blue for her hat; Mrs.
Myron, where a new baby is come, do want a somebody to sit wiz her zis
afternoon, so her seester get a leetle rest! Joe Granger, whose vife is
away, do long for one goot dinner zis noon and they do need for Mother
Flaherty a chair which will raise and lower, zat she may rest from her
bed."
"Dear me, it _is_ a jumble!" laughed Joyce. "Well, let me help you out.
Don't Lucy's children all go to school now, except the baby?"
"The leetle baby--yes."
"Then couldn't she take it over to Mrs. Myron's till school is out, and
look after that lady, who perhaps would give her the blue ribbon to pay
for the service? And ask Norah Flaherty if she won't let Joe Granger
come there to dinner, if he will hunt up the chair for her mother--and
send Joe to me for the chair. You will have to keep reminding them that
an exchange means always giving something for what they get; and if I
were you, Marie, when they began to tell of a want I should ask at once,
"But what have you to give?" That is the important part. You see Gus
Peters understood it."
"Yes, I see. And some one haf tell you all ze whole plan, I see too,"
returned Marie, looking at her somewhat wonderingly.
"Why, ye-s, I know about it, and it does interest me greatly. It's like
a puzzle, somehow. Two and two may not always make four, but they will
certainly make something. Do you mind my planning with you a little?"
"Not one bit, dear Mees."
"Then let's fix Gus Peters out. Why not phone to that boy--what's his
name?"
"Wolly, zey call him zat ozzer name, it ees very deficult to speak and I
forget."
"Oh well, Wolly will do. You know his number on the circuit?" Marie
pointed it out and called up the house. Wolly was not there, but his
sister seemed to think any job would be welcome. The only thing was, he
had no tools and no lumber, neither had he money to buy them,
"Now, if some good person who haf ze lumbare would but need something,"
laughed Marie.
"Wait! I have it. Gus is an architect. There is a great deal of building
being done. Possibly Gus could turn himself in some way to get the
lumber for the boy."
"And gif the knife, too?"
"The work ought to be worth it. May I talk to Gus?"
"To be sure," giggling enjoyably, for the whole thing seemed a huge joke
to the French girl, and even to Joyce it began to seem rather a
complicated affair. She felt certain, still, that her principle was all
right, but began to perceive that, even so, its practical working might
be almost an impossibility.
"If I could always be on hand to adjust matters!" she thought inwardly.
"But I can see that when they really begin to use their 'phones at all,
as most owners of them do, this exchange business would become a rather
unwieldy affair." Then Joyce sighed so profoundly that Gus heard it at
the other end, even as he spoke his "Hello!"
A moment's talk with him adjusted that matter. He said readily enough
that he could get the youngster what he needed without the least
trouble--all he wanted was to be sure and get a decent working easel,
and the knife would be forthcoming. So Joyce, relieved for the present,
turned eagerly again to Marie.
"How about Lucy? Will Mrs. Myron give her the blue ribbon?"
"She ask eef peenk would not do, and I say, talk wiz Lucie, and she do.
Zat is ze way, of course. When one does say what one need we will say,
'try zo-and-zo,' and in time efery body will be serve, and eferybody
happy."
"How quick you are to catch the idea, Marie! It will surely adjust
itself as you get used to it. And oh! if it will work. If they can be
taught----"
Joyce caught the other's astonished glance and checked herself
instantly, annoyed enough that she had come so close to self-betrayal.
"You see how interested even I can get," she laughed, flushing with
embarrassment. "It is silly of me, but it does seem such a novel scheme,
and one that might help all without impoverishing any, if rightly used.
I have really been anxious to watch its practical working. Thank you for
letting me bother you so."
"'Tis no bodder. I like to see you always, Mees Lavillotte. Come often
and again."
"I will be glad to. And, Marie, when you come to a dead-lock--do you
know the meaning of that?--when you cannot fit any want with another
want, as we have been doing now, just 'phone to me and perhaps I can
help you. Never be afraid of asking for anything that is really needed.
I have plenty of time, and such things interest me. And I have ways of
getting things that make it easier than for some. You will remember this
and surely call upon me?"
"It is verra good you do care," observed Marie, still a good bit amazed.
"You see I have chosen to make my home in Littleton, and I want to be
one with you. I want to be helpful, as well as to get help."
"Zat ees a good way to feel. Littleton--zet ees our new name, I hear. It
do sound strange to me yet. We nevare haf a name before. It was just the
Vorks."
"Do you like the name?"
"Eh, what matters?" flinging out her hands in a way that proved her
Parisian blood and birth. "It will do as well as any other,
Littleton--Lavillotte--How strange that your name does mean 'the little
town,' also! Did you know?"
"Does it?" Joyce felt it was time to flee. This Frenchwoman was too keen
to be easily answered. She nodded brightly, perhaps at the question,
perhaps to say adieu, and crying back over her shoulder, "Remember my
request!" hurried away, laughing within herself at her narrow escape.