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Updated: May 5, 2025
Adams, as they emerged at the corner; for part way up a hilly street a great throng had gathered in front of a low building, and a constant stream of other people were hastening that way. "What's the matter up there?" he inquired, of a passerby. The man scarcely paused. He only turned his head, to drawl: "Post-office, mister, and the mail's come in."
Just then a newcomer bundled up the steps unceremoniously, a red-faced, fussy old fellow. "Mail's in," he announced. "Give me the O.K." Scripps fumbled in a drawer of his desk and brought out a rubber stamp and pad. "Mind your eye, Rip," he observed, casting a scrutinizing look over the intruder. "Which eye?" demanded the old fellow. "The one that sees a bottle and glass the quickest."
I've finished all my shopping, Miss Norah, my dear, and the mail's in, and here's a letter for you, as you won't be sorry to see." "From Dad? How lovely!" and Norah, snatching at the grey envelope with its big, black writing, tore it open hastily. At the first few words, she uttered a cry of delight. "Oh, he's coming home to-morrow, Brownie only another day!
Beyond lay the tangle of hills, rising to the saw-toothed range now painted with orange and mauve and a hint of deepening purple. For dusk was already slipping down over the peaks. "Mail's been open half an hour, boys," Phyllis announced through the open window. They dropped in to the store, as noisy as schoolboys, but withal deferential.
The happy uncertainty of the mail's arrival caused the post-office to become a kind of forum, where all the grievances of the populace were turned loose and generally discussed. Then it seemed possible that the Narrow Gauge might be frowned down altogether, and the locomotive warned to cease trespassing upon the green pastures of the ex-capital.
The old Colonel, hearing the call, "The mail's here," opened the door of his den, and joined the group in the hall where Betty proceeded to sort out the letters. A registered package from Stuart was the first thing that Eugenia tore open, and the others looked up from their letters at her pleased exclamation: "Oh, it's the charms for the bride's cake!"
Esther's expressive face lights at all announcements of letters, but grows pensive at each inspection of tell-tale postmarks. Sir Donald looks over each mail's assortment, and his eyes seek Esther's. That indulgent father remarks: "Oswald Langdon may be away from New York a few days, and some time could elapse between receipt of my letter and sailing of ship carrying English mails."
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