“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
“NAH— MSG.—OK GB (good-by) HA.”
Then the New York Herald office on the Ferry building at the Battery began calling the New Willard in Washington for Senator Smith, and a lunatic on the Ansonia kept interrupting.
“Please—please don’t jam!” expostulated the Herald. “My message is important.”
“Oh, rats!” retorted the Ansonia. “Who ’s Smith? And who are you, anyhow? Do you think you own the whole air?”
“Please—please—” whined the Herald.
“Shut up, boy, and let the Herald talk!” thundered the deep tones of the United Wireless at Manhattan Beach. “Mind your own business or we ’ll lodge a complaint against you.”
“Ha! Ha!” mocked the Ansonia. “What can you do, old fuss cat?”
“Please—please—” kept on the exasperated and almost demented Herald.
“Oh, for God's sake, let somebody work can’t you, kid?" threw in Atlantic City. “You ’re getting entirely too gay!”
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