With that Cicely had a call, followed by five other calls, which kept her busy plugging in and attending to the time for awhile. When this was over, a lull followed, and Cis turned again to Nan. “That was a coincidence, a sort of coincidental run,” she said, “The first call was Parkway 58--and we know what that is, don’t we, Nanny?” “Of course; Miss Lucas,” said Nan promptly. “Neither of us ever thinks of any other Lucas but Miss Jeanette Lucas; we always forget there are other Lucases, a father, a mother, a younger sister, and a few boys, too young to matter, scattering along,” commented Cis. “But it was for Miss Lucas, and what is more, it was her betrothed calling her. I always know his voice. To be truthful, I don’t half like it; it’s sweet, cloying, yet it isn’t sweet--sounds the way maple syrup tastes when it’s just beginning to work. At our house maple syrup always seems to work before it gets eaten; I don’t know how often Miss Spencer puts it on the table like that! It’s an awful sell when you pour it over cakes! Well, about Mr. Herbert Dale’s voice. I’m nuts on voices; I think they give their owners away more than anything else, and I don’t like that voice over the ’phone. Hope I’m wrong, because Miss Jeanette Lucas is a fine girl. I met her once, though she wouldn’t remember it, probably. She’s a gentle, sweet, ladylike, old-fashioned sort of girl, and I imagine she’s the kind that loves a man adoringly, when she gets about it.” “That’s the way to love the man one marries,” declared romantic Nan. “No disputing the proposition, but it’s dangerous, because most men are quite a good deal human,” Cis observed dryly. “You needn’t talk! If you ever fall in love, you’ll pave the path of the man with your whole self!” cried Nan. “Heavens! Not so loud, Nan! That’s nothing to tell a crowd! Besides I would not!” whispered Cicely. Then with a swift abandonment of her position, she said aloud, with a suppressed vehemence: “Well, what would be the fun of loving any other way?” “Not much fun, either, when you take it like a fatal disease,” said Nan. “Where was the coincidence in Mr. Dale’s calling up Miss Lucas, Cis?” “Nowhere. But the coincidence was that the rest of those calls I had were Miss Lucas calling up Oldboy’s store, and a dressmaker, and a jeweller, and a garage,” Cis explained. “She would, she does every day. Of course she would, now that she is getting ready to be married as fast as she can,” murmured Nan, disappointed that there was no more in Cicely’s mystery. “Yes, of course,” agreed Cis. “I merely said that she called these people as soon as her betrothed rang off. Ever notice the way he calls? I’d not only know his voice over a wire in China, but he gives the number so peculiarly: ‘I’d like to get 58, the Parkway, if you please.’” Cis imitated an oily, smooth voice, unctuously used, and Nan laughed.