Algernon Blackwood

“ She had heard no ringing!
“You, Harry!” whispered the wife into the telephone, with brief intervals of silence for the replies. “You! But how in the world so soon!⁠—Yes, I can just hear you, but very faintly. Miles and miles away your voice sounds⁠—What?⁠—A wonderful journey? And sooner than you expected! Not in Paris? Where, then?⁠—Oh! my darling boy⁠—No, I don’t quite hear; I can’t catch it⁠—I don’t understand⁠ ⁠... The pain of the sea is nothing⁠—is what?⁠ ⁠... You know nothing of what⁠ ⁠...” ”

“ Always complain, you know, in this world if you want⁠—”
“There it goes again,” interrupted her friend nervously. “Oh I do wish it would stop. It’s like someone standing out there in the hall and trying to talk⁠—”
The cousin jumped up. They went into the hall together, and the experienced one briskly rang up the Exchange and asked if there was anybody trying to “get through.” With a fine indignation she complained that no one in the flat could sleep for the noise. After a brief conversation she turned, receiver in hand, to her companion. ”

“ Halfway through the recital the telephone sounded in the hall. It tinkled faintly, but gave no proper ring.
The other started. “There it is again! It’s always doing that⁠—ever since Harry put it in a week ago. I don’t quite like it.” She spoke in a hushed voice.
Her cousin looked at her curiously. “Oh, you mustn’t mind that,” she laughed with a reassuring manner. “It’s a little way they have when the line gets out of order. You’re not used to playing the telephone game yet. You should call up the Exchange and complain. ”