The girl could have heard what the Morse code was tapping forth had she chosen, but she had trained herself to disregard the telegraph when occupied on other work.
Suddenly, however, the telegraphist's pencil paused.
"Hello!" he said.

"Theodore Siddle! That's the chemist opposite, isn't it!" "Yes," said Doris, suspending her calculations at mention of the name.
"Well, his mother's dead." "Dead ?" she echoed vacantly.

Somehow, it had never hitherto dawned on her that the chemist might possess relatives in some part of the country.
"That's what it says," went on the other.

"'Regret inform you your mother died this morning.

Superintendent, Horton Asylum.'" "In an asylum, too," said the girl, speaking at random.
"Yes.