Wired Love by Ella Cheever Thayer (13 ebook reader txt) 📕
Description
Ella Cheever Thayer used her experience of being a telegraph operator at the Brunswick Hotel in Boston, Massachusetts, to write Wired Love: A Romance of Dots and Dashes. The story begins when Nathalie Rogers receives a call from another telegrapher, “C,” who manages to make her laugh. Little did they know, this was the beginning of an unusual romance (for the time period) between two people who don’t know anything about each other—not even what they look like. Wired Love was a bestseller for 10 years after it was published.
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- Author: Ella Cheever Thayer
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Clem looked pleased.
“If that is the trouble—” he began, but Nattie interrupted, her face very red.
“I did not mean that, either; I meant it was in such a different way, you know—and I—I could talk more easily, and—I do not believe I know what I do mean!” stopping short in embarrassment.
Clem looked at her and smiled.
“Let us see if it is any easier talking on the wire,” he said; and taking the key, he wrote,
“Good B m, will you please tell me truly, and relieve my mind, if you like me as well as you thought you would?”
Taking the key he relinquished, and without looking at him, she replied, “Yes; and suppose I ask you the same question, what would you say, politeness aside?”
“I should answer.” wrote Clem, his eyes on the sounder, “that I have found the very little girl expected!”
And then their eyes met, and Nattie hastily rose and walked to the window, for no ostensible purpose, and Clem said, going after her,
“It is nicer talking on the wire, isn’t it?”
Nattie was saved the necessity of replying by someone down the line who just then inquired,
“Who was that talking soft nonsense just now? We don’t allow that sort of thing here!”
“How impertinent!” exclaimed Nattie.
“Possibly our redheaded friend is somewhere about,” Clem said; then taking the key, responded to the unknown questioner,
“Don’t trouble yourself; I shall not talk soft nonsense to you!”
“That sounds like C’s writing! Is it?” was asked quickly.
“My style must be very peculiar to be so readily detected,” Clem said to Nattie, laughingly; then replied on the wire, “If you will sign I will tell you.”
“Em.”
“Ah!” said Clem, and immediately acknowledged himself. Then followed a short chat with Em, in which she endeavored to make him confess what office he was then sending from, which he persistently refused to do.
Having bade Em goodbye, and closed the key, he said to Nattie, verbally, “We ought to have a private wire of our own, since a wire is so necessary to our happiness! I see,” glancing around the office, “that you have an extra key and sounder here.”
“Yes;” Nattie replied, “we had at one time a railroad wire, and when it was taken out, the instruments were left, and have been here ever since.”
“Do you suppose you could take them home—to practice on, say?” queried Clem, a sparkle in his brown eyes.
“Doubtless, if I asked permission, they would allow me that privilege; why?” asked Nattie, curiously.
“I have a brilliant idea!” replied Clem, gayly. “But do not be alarmed, I am used to it, as Quimby would say; it is this. I myself have a key and sounder, relics of college days, beauties, too, and if you can take home those over there, we will have telegraphic communication from your room to ours, immediately. The wire and battery I will fix all right, and when Cyn is out, and you can’t come over, and at odd times, we will have some of our old chats.”
“But,” said Nattie, hesitatingly, although evidently delighted with the idea, “Miss Kling will never—”
“Hang Miss Kling!” interrupted Clem, emphatically; “excuse the expression, but she deserves it; she never need know. I will undertake to arrange everything, and keep the secret from her. To account for the instruments in your room, tell her you are going to practice at home, and have a pupil. Cyn, I know, will be delighted to amuse herself by learning.”
“I should like it very much,” acknowledged Nattie, “but—”
“I allow no buts,” Clem interrupted with gay decision; “you get the instruments, tell me the first time Miss Kling goes out to spend the day, and leave the rest to me.”
Nattie needed little urging, being only too willing to have some more of those old confidential chats with C—which nobody could share—and the required promise was given.
Strange it is, how circumstances alter cases. Coming to the office that morning, Nattie had found it disagreeable and hard enough to buffet the storm, and had growled at herself all the way, because she was not smart enough to get on in the world, even so far as to be able to stay at home in such weather. For storms of nature, like storms of life, are hardest to a woman, trammeled as she is in the one by long skirts, that will drag in the mud, and clothes that every gust of wind catches, and in the other by prejudices and impediments of every kind, that the world, in consideration, doubtless, for her so-called “weakness,” throws in her way. But now, on her way home, Nattie minded not the wind, and rather enjoyed the rain; it may be that this total change in her sentiments was due to the fact that Clem held the umbrella.
Miss Kling saw them come into the hotel together, wet and merry, and scowled. Perhaps in former days she had gone home under an umbrella with somebody—a possible other self—and so knew all about the enjoyability of the experience. But Nattie did not even notice her landlady’s acrimonious glance, and sang a gay song as she changed her bedrabbled dress.
Cyn, who was of course immediately informed about the projected private wire, was delighted with the idea, and began studying the Morse alphabet at once.
“And the best of all is that we are going to get the better of that argus-eyed Dragon!” said Cyn.
“If we can!” Nattie replied with emphasis.
“Oh! but Clem is sure of that part!” Cyn said with great confidence.
But Nattie shook her head dubiously.
“She is so inquisitive!” she remarked.
“Yes, and the most despicable character on earth to me, is a person whose chief object in life is gossip! why, life is too short to take care of our own affairs in! I wish you would leave her, and come and room with me!” exclaimed Cyn indignantly.
“Mrs. Simonson would not dare have me. She is afraid of Miss Kling, you know. But I wish I might, for I am
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