There was no answer.

“Alfred! . . .  Good servant, but as uncertain as the clock.”

Alonzo touched an electric bell button in the wall.  He waited a moment, then touched it again; waited a few moments more, and said: 

“Battery out of order, no doubt.  But now that I have started, I will find out what time it is.”  He stepped to a speaking-tube in the wall, blew its whistle, and called, “Mother!” and repeated it twice.

“Well, that’s no use.  Mother’s battery is out of order, too.  Can’t raise anybody down-stairs—­that is plain.”

He sat down at a rosewood desk, leaned his chin on the left-hand edge of it and spoke, as if to the floor:  “Aunt Susan!”

A low, pleasant voice answered, “Is that you, Alonzo?’

“Yes.  I’m too lazy and comfortable to go downstairs; I am in extremity, and I can’t seem to scare up any help.”

“Dear me, what is the matter?”

“Matter enough, I can tell you!”

“Oh, don’t keep me in suspense, dear!  What is it?”

“I want to know what time it is.”

“You abominable boy, what a turn you did give me!  Is that all?”

“All—­on my honor.  Calm yourself.  Tell me the time, and receive my blessing.”

“Just five minutes after nine.  No charge—­keep your blessing.”

“Thanks.  It wouldn’t have impoverished me, aunty, nor so enriched you that you could live without other means.”

He got up, murmuring, “Just five minutes after nine,” and faced his clock.  “Ah,” said he, “you are doing better than usual.  You are only thirty-four minutes wrong.  Let me see . . . let me see. . . .  Thirty-three and twenty-one are fifty-four; four times fifty-four are two hundred and thirty-six.  One off, leaves two hundred and thirty-five.  That’s right.”

He turned the hands of his clock forward till they marked twenty-five minutes to one, and said, “Now see if you can’t keep right for a while —­else I’ll raffle you!”

He sat down at the desk again, and said, “Aunt Susan!”

“Yes, dear.”

“Had breakfast?”

“Yes, indeed, an hour ago.”

“Busy?”

“No—­except sewing.  Why?”

“Got any company?”

“No, but I expect some at half past nine.”

“I wish I did.  I’m lonesome.  I want to talk to somebody.”

“Very well, talk to me.”

“But this is very private.”

“Don’t be afraid—­talk right along, there’s nobody here but me.”

“I hardly know whether to venture or not, but—­”

“But what?  Oh, don’t stop there!  You know you can trust me, Alonzo—­you know, you can.”

“I feel it, aunt, but this is very serious.  It affects me deeply—­me, and all the family—–­even the whole community.”

“Oh, Alonzo, tell me!  I will never breathe a word of it.  What is it?”

“Aunt, if I might dare—­”