THE PRESS

When there's storm, the telephone girl by hook or by crook somehow any how goes on to her job.

When cities bake and even country breezes fail, she picks up an extra load and carries on.

When disaster strikes she keeps her head and "sticks."

When all the world makes merry, there's no hint in her cheery "Number, please?" that in the merry making she cannot share.

It's not that she is a girl apart. She's your daughter. Whose else." Her curly head is full of girlish sense and nonsense. Her toes itch to beat out the latest dance rhythm. She's alive to every urge of wholesome happy youth.

But

By selection telephone girls are a fair cross section of America's bright young womanhood. American young womanhood by and large is made of pretty good stuff. Beyond that from her first tour at the switchboard the telephone girl finds herself gripped by a great tradition. The good name of a great public service is hers to guard and keep. When has she failed?

"Heroines?" It's a word to use sparingly. For all telephone girls opportunity is just around the corner. To a few it comes. Let us not cheapen the laurel when fairly won.

Today, tomorrow and every day, what we most want for cur girls what they most want for themselves is your recognition of the telephone girl for what she is an earnest daughter of industry, eager and faithful in your service, a dependable personal part of the machine which makes this good old world of ours go round. Between Ourselves New England Telephone and Telegraph Company, November.