It happened on this evening that Stella went downstairs earlier than the other guests, and in going into the library in search of an evening paper, found Sir Chichester standing by the telephone instrument.
"Am I in your way ?" she asked.
"Not a bit, Stella," he answered.

"In fact, you might help me by looking up the number I want." He raised the instrument, and playing with the receiver as he stood erect, remarked, "Although I am happy to think that I shall not be called upon to deliver any observations on the occasion of the Chichester flower show next Thursday, I may as well ask one of the newspapers if their local correspondent would give the ceremony some little attention." Stella Croyle took up the telephone book.
"Which newspaper is it to be, Sir Chichester ?" "The _Harpoon_, I think.

Yes, I am sure.

The _Harpoon_." Stella Croyle looked up the number and read out: "Gerrard, one, six, two, double three." Sir Chichester accordingly called upon the trunk line and gave the number.
"You will ring me up?
Thank you," he said, and replacing the receiver, stood in anxious expectancy.
"I thought that your favourite paper was the _Daily Flashlight_ ?" Stella observed.
"That's quite true, Stella.

It was," Sir Chichester explained naively.
"But I have noticed lately a regrettable tendency to indifference on the part of the _Flashlight_.