behind the partition, but this last familiarity with her sacred official
property--albeit empty--capped the climax of her wrongs.

"How dare you touch it!" she said indignantly. "How dare you come in
here! Who are you, anyway? Go outside, at once!"

The stranger fell back with an amused, deprecatory gesture, and a
long silent laugh. "I'm afraid you don't know me, after all!" he said
pleasantly. "I'm Harry Home, the Department Agent from the San Francisco
office. My note of advice, No. 201, with my name on the envelope, seems
to have miscarried too."

Even in her fright and astonishment it flashed upon Mrs. Baker that she
had sent that notice, too, to Hickory Hill. But with it all the feminine
secretive instinct within her was now thoroughly aroused, and she kept
silent.

"I ought to have explained," he went on smilingly; "but you are quite
right, Mrs. Baker," he added, nodding towards the bag. "As far as you
knew, I had no business to go near it. Glad to see you know how to
defend Uncle Sam's property so well. I was only a bit puzzled to
know" (pointing to the wire) "if that thing was on the bag when it was
delivered to you?"

Mrs. Baker saw no reason to conceal the truth. After all, this official
was a man like the others, and it was just as well that he should
understand her power. "It's only the expressman's foolishness," she
said, with a slightly coquettish toss of her head. "He thinks it smart
to tie some nonsense on that bag with the wire when he flings it down."