"Hum! So you are really postmistress of Golden Crossing," remarked Jack.
"Is your mother--"

"Oh, it isn't anything serious," was the quick answer. "But we are going to
make certain, changes, and--"

"Changes!" cried Jack, in some surprise. "I hope you aren't thinking of
going away!"

"Oh, no indeed!" Jennie answered. "We like it too well here. But mother has
a chance to do some sewing, at which she can make some much-needed money,
and she realized that she would be too busy at that to look after the post
office properly. So I said I'd apply for the place. I know all about the
work," Jennie went on, "for whenever mother went away I used to look after
the mail. Tim does the heavy work, lifting the pouches and packages and all
that," and she indicated a red-haired and freckled lad named Timothy
Mullane, a genial Irish chap, who did odd jobs around the post office, and
in the settlement of Golden Crossing.

"So, with Tim to help me, I felt that I might just as well be the
full-fledged postmistress," the girl went on. "As soon as mother had
arranged to do this sewing I applied for the place to the President--"

"To the President--in Washington?" cried Jack, in surprise.

"Well, I wrote to the President, though I don't suppose he ever saw my
letter," Jennie said. "I thought he appointed all postmasters and
postmistresses. But I had an answer from some official of the post office
department, and I received the appointment!" she laughed in conclusion.