"I thought you said there were no letters at that time," said Mr. Home
quickly.

"No--but--but"--(with a slight hysterical stammer) "the boys come all
the same."

"Oh!" said Mr. Home dryly.

"And--O Lord!"--But here the spectacle of the possible discomfiture of
Laurel Run at meeting the bearded face of Mr. Home, instead of her own
smooth cheeks, at the window, combined with her nervous excitement,
overcame her so that, throwing her little frilled apron over her head,
she gave way to a paroxym of hysterical laughter. Mr. Home waited with
amused toleration for it to stop, and, when she had recovered, resumed.
"Now, I should like to refer an instant to my first communication to
you. Have you got it handy?"

Mrs. Baker's face fell. "No; I sent it over to Mr. Green, of Hickory
Hill, for information."

"What!"

Terrified at the sudden seriousness of the man's voice, she managed to
gasp out, however, that, after her usual habit, she had not opened the
official letters, but had sent them to her more experienced colleague
for advice and information; that she never could understand them
herself,--they made her head ache, and interfered with her other
duties,--but HE understood them, and sent her word what to do.
Remembering also his usual style of indorsement, she grew red again.