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Updated: May 25, 2025
And, musing bitterly, he thought he knew to whom those shoulder straps belonged. "The damn fool!" he muttered, biting at his pipe. "Colonel," said the Messenger cheerily, "I am going to take the mail to the outposts to-day." "As you like," he said, without interest. "I want, also, a pass for Miss Carryl." "To pass our lines?" "To pass out. She will not care to return."
"So you gave Deal permission to send some bees to Miss Carryl and write her a letter?" "Once. I had the letter brought to me and I sent her a copy. Here it is the original." He produced Deal's letter from the dispatch pouch, and the Messenger read: Miss Evelyn Carryl, Osage Court House. Respected Miss: I send you the bees. I seen Mr.
"Wal, arter meetin' they all come 'round the parson and Huldy at the door, shakin' hands and laugh-in'; for by that time they was about agreed that they'd got to let putty well alone. "'Why, Parson Carryl, says Mis' Deakin Blod-gett, 'how you've come it over us. "'Yes, says the parson, with a kind o' twinkle in his eye.
He sort o' seemed to think, that if he was fairly tried, and hung, it would make it all square. He made Parson Carryl promise to have the old mill pulled down, and bury the body; and, after he was dead, they did it. "Cap'n Eb he was one of a party o' eight that pulled down the chimbley; and there, sure enough, was the skeleton of poor Lommedieu.
"So this Miss Carryl owns John Deal's farm," she mused aloud. "They run it on shares, I believe." "Oh! Was she angry when you shut out her tenant, John Deal, and shut her inside the lines?" "No; she seemed a little surprised said it was inconvenient wanted permission to write him." "You gave it?" "Yes. I intimated it would save time if she left her letters to him unsealed.
She wouldn't let nobody put nothin' off on Parson Carryl, 'cause he was a minister. Huldy was allers up to anybody that wanted to make a hard bargain; and, afore he knew jist what he was about, she'd got the best end of it, and everybody said that Huldy was the most capable gal that they'd ever traded with.
Huldy was a tailoress by trade; but then she was one o' these 'ere facultised persons that has a gift for most any thing, and that was how Mis' Carryl come to set sech store by her, that, when she was sick, nothin' would do for her but she must have Huldy round all the time: and the minister, he said he'd make it good to her all the same, and she shouldn't lose nothin' by it.
"You are not the usual mail-carrier?" she asked languidly. "No, ma'am" in a nasal voice. "Colonel Gay sent you?" "Yes, ma'am." Miss Carryl turned, lifted a small salt sack, and offered it to the Messenger, who leaned wide from her saddle and took it in one hand. "You are to take this bag to the Deal farm. Colonel Gay has told you?" "Yes, ma'am." "Thank you. And there is no letter to-day.
Will you have a few peaches to eat on the way? I always give the mail-carrier some of my peaches to eat." Miss Carryl lifted a big, blue china bowl full of superb, white, rare-ripe peaches, and, coming to the veranda's edge, motioned the Messenger to open the saddlebags. Into it she poured a number of peaches. "They are perfectly ripe," she said; "I hope you will like them." "Thank'y, ma'am."
But Lordy massy! he didn't know nothin' about where any thing he eat or drunk or wore come from or went to: his wife jest led him 'round in temporal things and took care on him like a baby. "Wal, to be sure, Mis' Carryl looked up to him in spirituals, and thought all the world on him; for there warn't a smarter minister no where 'round.
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