down hisself at her feet."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the partition, Mrs. Baker had brushed
the red dust from the padlocked bag, and removed what seemed to be a
supplementary package attached to it by a wire. Opening it she found
a handsome scent-bottle, evidently a superadded gift from the devoted
expressman. This she put aside with a slight smile and the murmured
word, "Foolishness." But when she had unlocked the bag, even its
sacred interior was also profaned by a covert parcel from the adjacent
postmaster at Burnt Ridge, containing a gold "specimen" brooch and some
circus tickets. It was laid aside with the other. This also was vanity
and--presumably--vexation of spirit.

There were seventeen letters in all, of which five were for herself--and
yet the proportion was small that morning. Two of them were marked
"Official Business" and were promptly put by with feminine discernment;
but in another compartment than that holding the presents. Then the
shutter was opened, and the task of delivery commenced.

It was accompanied with a social peculiarity that had in time become a
habit of Laurel Run. As the young woman delivered the letters, in turn,
to the men who were patiently drawn up in Indian file, she made that
simple act a medium of privileged but limited conversation on special or
general topics,--gay or serious as the case might be, or the temperament
of the man suggested. That it was almost always of a complimentary
character on their part may be readily imagined; but it was invariably
characterized by an element of refined restraint, and, whether from some
implied understanding or individual sense of honour, it never passed the
bounds of conventionality or a certain delicacy of respect. The
delivery was consequently more or less protracted, but when each man