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This Is Malory Towers

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Miss Grayling was alone in her office when the telephone rang. She picked up the receiver. "Malory Towers. How may I help you?"

She heard the annoying crackling of static. She just barely heard a girl's voice on the other end.
"This is Malory Towers."

"Yes, yes," Miss Grayling replied. "This is Malory Towers. How may I help you?"

She heard more static, and the repeated words, "This is Malory Towers."

"I've already told you, yes, this is Malory Towers. How may I help you?"

The static grew worse.

The caller now sounded a bit confused. There seemed to be a questioning tone in her voice.
"This is Malory Towers?"

Miss Grayling was beginning to feel exasperated.
"For the last time, yes, this is Malory Towers. How may I help you?"

Crackle. Crackle.

And again, on the other end, "This is Malory Towers."

Miss Grayling gave up.

"I'm sorry, but the connection must be bad. I can barely hear you. Please try again later." She put the receiver back in its cradle.

"That was strange. Could I have dialed the wrong number?" thought thirteen-year-old Mallory Towers.