My old friend Time, however, worked his
proverbial wonders and one day a telephone came--phit! like that.
Directly it had come I suspected a trap somewhere. Nor were my friends
behindhand in telling me of the horrors of gigantic and inexorable bills
from which there was no appeal. They said I must have a coin-box. Excellent
idea! I would have a coin-box.
So the great Spring offensive began. In early February I opened a strong
barrage upon the main headquarters (how lovingly these ancient military
metaphors come back to one!) and kept up a little light harassing fire upon
the District Agent. The enemy replied with rigid uniformity upon printed
forms--a mean advantage, for I have to type mine myself. But matters
progressed. At the end of the first fortnight I had been advised that the
work of installing my coin-box had been entrusted to no fewer than three
groups of engineers, "to whom you should refer in all cases."
Well, I "referred" for some little time, and then, after a decent interval,
made their acquaintance separately.
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