The Hearing Aid

“...and so I told him you would settle the bill on Monday, dear,” bellowed Mrs. Constantine down the amplifying horn.

At the other end of the long tube, Mr. Hector Constantine winced and adjusted his earpiece.

Mrs. Constantine smiled apologetically. “Too loud?”

“A trifle, dearest.” Mr. Constantine sighed. “However, it is the distortion that is causing me the most distress.” He took out the earpiece, shook it and replaced it. “There surely must be a better solution for my failing hearing.”

“You should make the attempt yourself!” declared Mrs. Constantine, lowering her voice from bellowing to yelling. “You have always said your dream was to be an inventor.”

“You know, my love...” Mr. Constantine beamed. “Perhaps I shall.”




A few months later he proudly presented his work to his wife.

“It’s an electric hearing aid!” said Mr. Constantine. “And not only will it amplify more proficiently, it will concentrate on speech and ignore other sounds.”

“Astonishing!” cried Mrs. Constantine, her eyes wide. “How does it work, dear?”

“See here.” Mr. Constantine pointed at the large box resting on his knee. “My earpiece is connected to this: it’s an amplifier and battery combined!”  

He made to stand up.

“And it has a handle so I can carry it wherever I like. In fact, it is my intention to go and sit in the park and listen to the sounds of nature and my fellow man.”

Mrs. Constantine looked at her husband a little doubtfully as he struggled to his feet. “It does look somewhat bulky.”

“I am sure I will cope,” said Mr. Constantine—breathing rather heavily as he finally made it to an upright position.




However, it wasn’t long before Mr. Constantine regretted having taken the new aid for a walk.

He paused on the pavement and whistled for a hansom.

“King’s Park, my good man.”

Settled in his seat, Mr. Constantine listened contentedly to the rhythm of the horse’s hooves, the clacking of the wheels. And to the driver muttering to himself.

“Daft old sod. Not surprised he has to take a cab. Looks like he’s on his last legs.”

Mr. Constantine raised his eyebrows high.

When he alighted, he gave the driver a very hard stare and a very small tip.

Mr. Constantine popped into a greengrocer’s to buy an apple. He heard the assistant perfectly.

Unfortunately he also heard what he said as he moved away.

“An apple won’t go far. Looks like a square meal wouldn’t hurt. Scrawny bugger.”

Fuming, Mr. Constantine made for the park and found himself a bench.

He sat on the bench, the amplifier next to him. and attempted to regain his composure. It truly was a lovely day. He sighed, and began to take his ease.

But every passer-by seemed to have something offensive to comment:

“Look at that haircut…”

“Glad I don’t have that nose…”

“Bless him—should he be out on his own..?”

And as he sat watching and listening to these people, he began to realise something. He wasn’t just hearing their voices. He was hearing their thoughts too. The ones on the tip of the tongue—that had been translated into a language but not actually spoken.

Mr. Constantine was shaken. As quickly as he was able, he left the park and took a cab back to his home, trying to ignore the driver’s critique of his sartorial choices as he went.




Once home he explained the situation to his wife.

“Oh, great heavens,” Mrs. Constantine put a hand to her mouth. “How awful!”

Mr. Constantine stared at her. “You mean to say you believe me?”

“Of course I do, dear,” she said. “I know you’re an honourable man.”

Mr. Constantine raised his eyebrows. “But don’t you want to test me to be on the safe side?”

His wife smiled weakly. “If it will make you happy...”

Mr. Constantine nodded.

“Think of a sentence and I will listen for it.”

Mrs. Constantine closed her eyes and furrowed her brow.

Mr. Constantine listened attentively. He frowned.

“Concentrate a little harder, dearest.”

Mrs. Constantine screwed her face up.

“No, nothing!”

Mrs. Constantine opened her eyes. “Perhaps try adjusting the settings on your device.”

Mrs. Constantine resumed her pose of concentration, and Mr. Constantine rotated the dial on his amplifier.

“Yes, I’ve got it! It’s kedgeree for breakfast tomorrow!”

Mr. Constantine paused.

“How odd that I should hear your thoughts at a different frequency.”

“Perhaps it’s because I am one of those in sympathy with you.” Mrs. Constantine smiled suddenly. “And maybe we could use this to your advantage. We could add a series of filters to the amplifier, so you can choose what and who you hear.”

“Wonderful idea!”

Mr. Constantine narrowed his eyes.

“I certainly don’t want to hear what every dunderhead thinks of me every time I step out in public.”

“We shall look into it together,” said Mrs. Constantine.




It took several more months but they did it! And the Constantines decided to hold a dinner party to both celebrate and test their new improved model.

Their friends and neighbours were most interested in the mechanics of the device, and Mr. Constantine was delighted to find he could hear everyone clearly without hearing their innermost thoughts as well. He would have declared it a complete success but he was having difficulties hearing Mr. Allonby, the husband of his wife’s friend Mabel.

It was only as he watched Allonby talking to Mrs. Constantine that the penny dropped.

His wife’s tight smile and Allonby’s corresponding patronising one… Mr. Constantine managed to lipread a little, and nodded to himself. Allonby was attempting to explain the workings of the filters to the woman who had done the work on them.

Mr. Constantine discreetly adjusted the dial. He should have realised that he needed to move it from the Friends Only setting to the one that included Impertinent Fools.