Notwithstanding which sage remark, and the fact of the curtain having fallen on the end, as Cyn said, for a moment yesterday was as if it had never been, when Nattie entered her office the next morning and was greeted with the familiar, "B m--B m--B m--where is my little girl at B m, to say good-morning to me?" and she made an involuntary movement towards the key to respond in the usual way. The remembrance of the actual state of things checked her just in time, and then, with a rather uncertain and tremulous touch of the key she answered, "Good morning! wait--am busy!" "One untruth!" she thought to herself, as "C" became mute, "not the only one I shall have to tell, I fear, before I succeed in conveying my exact meaning to the understanding of--the person. I will pick a quarrel, if possible, and he persists in talking! Oh, dear! I could have endured the red hair, even those dreadful teeth, had it not been for the bear's-grease and general vulgarity of the creature. Well, it's all over now!" and she sighed, from which it may be inferred that Jo's admonitions had not been of much consolation to her. We do not take the lessons our experience teaches us, to heart immediately; first, their bitterness must be overcome. To Nattie's great relief, the wire happened to be very busy that morning, but whenever it was possible "C" called her, and called in vain. Immediately after her return from dinner, however, having just received and signed for a message, "C," the moment she closed her key, said, "Where have you been to-day? are you not glad to have me back again? it cannot be I am so soon forgotten?" Unable to avoid answering, Nattie responded on the wrong side of truth again. "Have been busy; wait, please, a customer here." "I cannot help saying, confound the luck!" "C" responded, savagely. To which anathema Nattie turned up her nose scornfully, and made no reply. The nervous dread of his "calling," that was upon her all day, caused her to make more blunders than she had ever done in all her telegraphic career. She gave wrong change continually, numbered her messages incorrectly, and "broke" so much that the operator who sent to her had a headache with ill-humor. Usually very quick at deciphering the illegible scrawls often handed her for transmission, she to-day was frowned at for her stupidity in making them out; and one lady to whom a message was sent through poor Nattie's office, was much exercised on receiving it, to learn over an unknown gentleman's signature, that he would be with her at midnight. He really was her husband, but Nattie had transmitted the name the writing looked most like, which was one very remote from the real one.