It was Mr. Keen, a pleasant middle-aged man, who had hired Tom, and he showed the boy how to make the connections to the telephones in the offices of various members of the firm. There were also three clerks, each one of whom had an instrument. At first, as it was early morning, only a few calls came in, and these Tom easily managed. The lawyers only had occasion to call up outside parties once or twice, and Tom had no difficulty in getting the desired numbers. But, as the day advanced, and more business began to come in on the wire, the boy soon found he had his hands full. “I guess it isn’t going to be as easy as I thought,” he said to himself, as he placed plug after plug in the holes, and worked the cams and buttons as fast as he could. About noon some one called for Mr. Boise, and Tom put the plug of the cord in the hole he thought connected with the instrument on the desk of the head of the firm. Then a call came for Mr. Keen, but, while Tom was making that connection the door of Mr. Cutler’s office opened, and that individual fairly rushed out. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked Tom, rather savagely. “Don’t you know enough to operate a switchboard?” “Why--why--what’s wrong?” asked Tom innocently. “Why, you’ve put the party who wanted Mr. Boise on my wire, and you spoilt a long distance call I had to Taunton. Now I’ve got to call up again, and maybe I’ll lose my party. Why don’t you make the right connections?” “I--I thought I did, Mr. Cutler.” “Well, thinking so isn’t going to mend matters. Now give the party that’s on my wire to Mr. Boise, and then see if you can get central for me. I never saw such a poor operator,” he murmured, as he went back into his office and slammed the door. Mr. Boise came out of his office then. He had evidently heard what the junior partner said. “Try and be a little more careful, Tom,” he remarked kindly. “I know you are new at it, and you’ll get along all right after a while. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. It’s better to be sure than sorry, you know. That’s an old adage, but it’s a good one. Have you changed the party to my wire?” “Yes, sir,” answered Tom, grateful for the kind manner in which the head of the firm spoke. Tom could not help being a little nervous, but he kept a good grip on himself, shut his teeth firmly together and resolved to make no more mistakes that day. He was glad when the noon hour came, as he could go out and get something to eat, and, while he was gone, one of the junior clerks operated the switchboard. Tom went to a little restaurant where Charley Grove had promised to meet him. “Well,” asked his chum, “how’d you make out?” “Pretty well, I guess. I made a couple of blunders, and Mr. Cutler, the junior partner, scolded me.” “Aw, don’t mind that. Tell him it was the central girl’s fault.” “But it wasn’t.” “Aw, how do they know? I always blame the girls. They’re used to it, and, besides, the bosses never see ’em, so it don’t make no difference.”