"I am indebted to you for that pleasure," Nattie said, with a smile, as she took the hand Miss Archer extended, saying, "I have heard Quimby speak about you so much, I already feel acquainted." Quimby blushed, and nervously fingered his necktie. "Such near neighbors--so lonesome--thought you ought to know each other," he said confusedly. "Yes, I began to fear we were destined never to meet," Nattie replied, as she held the private door open for her visitors to enter, a proceeding contrary to rules, but she preferred rather to transgress in this way, than in manners, and leave her callers standing out in the cold. "I don't know as we ever should, had it not been for Quimby," said Miss Archer, glancing curiously around the office. "I believe I never was in a telegraph office before. Don't you find the confinement rather irksome?" "Sometimes," Nattie replied; "but then there always is some one to talk with on the wire,' and in that way a good deal of the time passes." "Talk with--on the wire?" queried Miss Archer, with uplifted eyebrows. "What does that mean? Do tell me. I am as ignorant as a Hottentot about anything appertaining to telegraphy. Nearly all I know is, you write a message, pay for it, and it goes." Nattie smiled and explained, and then turning to Quimby, asked, "You remember my speaking about 'C' and wondering whether a gentleman or lady?" "Oh, yes!" Quimby remembered, and fidgeted on his chair. "He proved to be a gentleman." "Oh, yes; exactly, you know!" responded Quimby, looking anything but elated. "It must be very romantic and fascinating to talk with some one so far away, a mysterious stranger too, that one has never seen," Miss Archer said, her black eyes sparkling. "I should get up a nice little sentimental affair immediately, I know I should, there is something so nice about anything with a mystery to it." "Yes, telegraphy has its romantic side--it would be dreadfully dull if it did not," Nattie answered. "But--now really," said Quimby, who sat on the extreme edge of the chair, with his feet some two yards apart from each other; "really, you know, now suppose--just suppose, your mysterious invisible shouldn't be--just what you think, you know. You see, I remember one or two young men in telegraph offices, whose collars and cuffs are always soiled, you know!" "I have great faith in my 'C,'" laughed Nattie. "It would be dreadfully unromantic to fall in love with a soiled invisible, wouldn't it," said Miss Archer, with an expressive shrug of her shoulders. Nattie colored a little, and answered hastily: "Oh! it's only fun, you know;" at which Quimby brightened, and Miss Archer inquired gayly, "_Pour passer le temps?_"