Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3813/The Magic Number
I have a telephone—a simple unpretentious toy, just like the next one. Sometimes I think it must be exceptional, but anon I hear other telephoners talking, and I realise that theirs too have the same repertory of pretty mannerisms.
Especially I found matter for complaint re Wilmer. Especially Wilmer found matter for complaint re me. Wilmer and I are friends and neighbours. No doubt the people at the exchange had made a note of it. For, if ever I rang up Wilmer, he, they told me, answered not. And, if ever Wilmer rang up me, I, they told him, was engaged. To discover that these things were not so, it was only necessary for the ringer to step across the road; nay, even a shout from the garden was sufficient.
Having matter for complaint, we complained. After that nothing could redeem us in the ears of our exchange. Formerly we got through to each other once in four shots. Thereafter the blockage was complete.
So we laid our plans.
One evening at half-past eight I rang up the exchange. "I want 4792 Marble Arch," I began.
An interval. Then, "Sorry; there's no answer."
I made a bad-tempered noise, full of incredulity and baffled urgency. And yet I was not wholly surprised; 4792 makes wall-papers up to 7. p.m., and then puts up the shutters.
I rang up the exhange.
"I want 5921 B City, please."
Again there was no answer. This was Wilmer's office. Wilmer, who was standing behind me, made them ring it up twice again to make sure. Then I went on to the other eight impossible numbers we had fixed on. They were unresponsive to a man.
Ten rings, and not a single answer!
Then we crossed to Wilmer's house.
Wilmer rang up the exchange. Bitter experience has assured us that we share the same operator.
"I want 4792 Marble Arch," he began.
4792 was still mute. So was 5921 B City. So were no fewer than all the eight further numbers prearranged.
Then I went back again and rang up 4792. This precipitated the crisis.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm nearly sure I can't get them. Would you let me have a list of the numbers you want, and I'll get when I can."
"The number I really want," I said, "is Mr. Wilmer's, 729 Lane, but I've given up trying to get that."
I was through to Wilmer like lightning; and a little later he rang me up by the same strategy.
Nowadays, if Wilmer or I have any trouble in getting one another, we have only to whisper 4792 Marble Arch, and we're through before we've thought of what to say.