politely explanatory. "Ye see, miss, I carry the mail this trip an' the
parcel-post traffic is right heavy, as ye might say. . . . Belay that,
Jerry!" he observed to the nigh horse that was stamping because of the
pest of flies. "We'll cast off in a minute and get under way. . . . No,
miss, I can't take 'em; but Perry Baker'll likely go over to the Haven
to-night and he'll fetch 'em for ye. I got all the cargo I can load."

Soon the horses shacked out of town. The sandy road wandered through the
pine woods where the hot June sunshine extracted the scent of balsam
until its strength was almost overpowering. Louise, alone in the
interior of the old coach, found herself pitching and tossing about as
though in a heavy sea.

"It is fortunate I am a good sailor," she told herself, somewhat ruefully.

The driver was a large man in a yellow linen duster. He was not
especially communicative--save to his horses. He told them frankly what
he thought of them on several occasions! But "city folks" were evidently
no novelty for him. As he put Louise and her baggage into the vehicle he
had asked:

"Who you cal'latin' to stop with, miss?"

"I am going to Mr. Abram Silt's," Louise had told him.

"Oh! Cap'n Abe. Down on the Shell Road. I can't take ye that
fur--ain't allowed to drive beyond the tavern. But 'tain't noways a fur
walk from there."

He expressed no curiosity about her, or her business with the Shell Road