That which had attracted his attention was a stoop-shouldered man. The
fellow wore a soft hat, the brim of which was slightly turned up in
front, but his face was well masked by a huge pair of green automobile
goggles.

"Well, I swum!" ejaculated the postmaster. "If I didn't know the
feller was in jail up at Concord, I'd say that was Big Charlie.
Hm-m-m. No. This one is too stooped for Charlie. Charlie's six foot
two in his socks. I wonder who this fellow is?"

Even then the mail train was whistling, and the postmaster began
bustling about preparing to receive the evening mail, always an event
for him as well as for the villagers, who ordinarily flocked into the
office, hoping to catch sight of a familiar handwriting or hear a name
mentioned that would give them foundation for a bit of gossip.

It was while he was thus engaged that five young girls and a young
woman some years their senior got down from a coach to the railway
platform, where they stood gazing expectantly about them. The young
women were dressed in tasteful blue serge suits, with hats of the same
material, a sort of uniform, the villagers decided, and, had not the
station platform been too dark, the eager spectators would have seen
that the faces of the visitors were tanned almost to swarthiness.

"Shall I ask some one if Mr. Janus Grubb is here?" questioned one of
the girls.

"No, wait a moment, Harriet," answered the young woman in charge of the
party, "I will ask. Surely the guide should be here to meet us, since
Miss McCarthy's father had arranged for it."