“Now when you see that little black thing drop,” he called to Tom, “you want to take up one of these plugs, which are attached to wires, though they call ’em cords, and plug it into the hole under where the black thing drops.” “What’s that black thing?” asked Tom. “That’s the visual signal. There’s a buzzer that goes with it, but I cut the buzzer out, because it makes my head ache,” answered Charley, who was rather free and easy in his manners and talk. “Then,” he went on, “you want to take off the receiver, ’cause there ain’t no head and ear piece here, and listen to get the number. When I tell you a number you want to repeat it to central. And say, don’t let them central girls bluff you. Some of ’em are too tart. Think you understand now? If you do I’ll try you out.” “Go ahead,” answered Tom, and Charley closed the door. Presently the “little black thing” dropped. Tom pulled up a plug and inserted it into the proper hole. “Get me one-eight-two-seven, Oxford,” called Charley over the wire. Tom repeated the number to the central girl. In a moment he heard the girl’s voice over the wire: “One-eight-two-seven, Oxford, doesn’t answer.” “Aw, what ye givin’ us!” exclaimed Charley, “cutting” into the conversation. “Ring ’em again, Flossie.” “I’ll give you the manager,” came the girl’s voice over the wire again, and there was a frigid tone in it. “Say, she must be a new one on this circuit,” remarked Charley to Tom through the instrument. “The regular girl don’t care if you have a little joke with her. Guess I’d better go slow. Listen now.” Soon a man’s voice was heard asking what was wanted, and Charley, talking back to him said he was sure there must be some one in at the number he called. “The operator will try again for you,” said the manager. Soon Tom heard a voice he recognized as that of a boy asking: “What’s the matter? What ye ringin’ that way fer?” “Hello, Pete!” called Charley. “That you?” “Sure. This you, Charley?” “Of course. Say, ain’t you stayin’ kinder late?” “Yep. The boss went off, an’ left me a lot of letters to copy. What you doin’ in your office?” “Oh, I’m teachin’ a friend of mine how to run the switchboard. Let me introduce you to him. Hey, Tom Baldwin, that’s my friend, Pete Lansing, on the other end of the wire.” “Glad to meet you,” answered Tom, thinking this was a novel form of introduction. “Same to you. Keep the change!” exclaimed Pete with a laugh. He seemed to be the same jolly sort of a lad Charley was. “Call me up again. I’ve got to get these letters done to put in the mail,” he added. “So long!” called Charley. “Good-by,” supplemented Tom, and then a click in the receiver told that Pete had disconnected. “See how it’s done?” asked Charley, coming from the inner room. “A little,” answered Tom. “Now it’s different when some one calls up, and wants a member of the firm,” went on his mentor. “If central would only ring up I’d show----” Just then one of the black signals fell.