He glanced at his pretty French mantel-clock. “That clock's wrong again. That clock hardly ever knows what time it is; and when it does know, it lies about it—which amounts to the same thing. Alfred!” 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.”