"Maybe he won't come home to supper tonight, and I'll be
in bed when he comes."
"Telephone him," said Sister, stroking one of Brownie's velvet
ears.
"I don't know the name of the law school," objected Brother.
"Ask Daddy," promptly responded Sister. "He'll know."
The children knew the number of Daddy Morrison's big office in the
city, and both could telephone very nicely. The phone booth was
under the hall stairs and Brother knew no one in the house could
hear him when he took down the receiver.
"Please give me 6587 Main," he said politely, while Sister and
Brownie sat down on the floor to wait and listen.
Dick was in his father's office, and unless the person calling
asked for Mr. Morrison, senior, the switchboard operator gave them
Mr. Morrison, junior. That was Dick, who was named for Daddy
Morrison.
"Hello, hello!" came Dick's voice over the wire in answer to
Brother's call.
"I want Daddy," said Brother distinctly.
"Is that you, Brother?" asked Dick in surprise. "Did Mother ask
you to call him? Is anything wrong at home?"
"No, only I want to speak to him," said Brother impatiently.
"He's busy--if you are only trying to amuse yourself, I advise you
to stop it," answered Dick rather sharply.
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