"Try oncet more, Lucy! Just oncet more!" Grandpa was imploring the
operator.
Paul and Maureen were on the floor at Grandpa's feet, listening
anxiously. Grandma brought in the lantern and set it on the organ near
him as if somehow it would help them all hear better.
After an unbearable wait Grandpa bellowed, "Tom! That you, Tom? How are
my ponies?"
A pause.
"What's that? You're worried about your son's _chickens_!" Grandpa
clamped his hand over the mouthpiece and snorted in disgust. He
summoned all of his patience. "All right, tell me 'bout the chickens,
but make it quick." He held the receiver slightly away from his ear so
that everyone could listen in.
"My son," Tom Reed was shouting as loud as Grandpa, "raises chickens up
to my house, you know."
"Yup, yup, I know."
"He's got four chicken houses here, and he comes up about eight o'clock
tonight, and wind's a-screeching and a-blowing, and the stoves burn
more coal when the wind blows hard."
"I know!" Grandpa burst forth in annoyance. "But what about...."
"He puts more coal on and he asks me to help, and tide wasn't too far
in then. But when we'd done coaling, he goes on back to his house. And
an hour or so later he calls me up all outa breath. 'Tide's risin'
fast,' he says. 'Storm's worsening. I can't get back up there. Will you
coal the stoves for me?' So I goes out...."