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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Phoo! phoo!" interrupted Goody Grope; "don't be prating; don't I know as well as you do, that they found a pot of gold, BY GOOD LUCK? and is not that the cause why they are going to live in a slated house now?" "No," replied the postmaster's daughter; "this house is given to them AS A REWARD that was the word in the letter; for I saw it.
'But the more haste the worse speed; for away it went to Brookwood, Huntingdonshire, where I knew, if anywhere, you was to be found; but, as fate and the post would have it, there the letter went coursing after you, while you were running round, and back and forwards, and everywhere, I understand, to Toddrington and Wrestham, and where not, through all them English places, where there's no cross-post; so I took it for granted that it found its way to the dead-letter office, or was sticking up across a pane in the d d postmaster's window at Huntingdon, for the whole town to see, and it a love-letter, and some puppy to claim it, under false pretence; and you all the time without it, and it might breed a coolness betwixt you and Miss Nugent.
"Who, may I ask, is Doris Martin?" put in Hart. "The Steynholme postmaster's daughter," said Furneaux. "A remarkably pretty and intelligent girl. If her father was a peer she would be the belle of a London season. As it is, her good looks seem to have put a maggot in more than one nut in this village." Hart waved the negro's head in the air. "The lunatic theory for mine," he declared.
Upon hearing that she was staying with the postmaster's wife, she nodded, and said with a smile: "Ah! I know her. Adieu! tell no one of our meeting. I hope you will not have long to wait for the answer to your petition." She rose and went away by a covered path. Marie went back to Anna's, full of fair hope.
Thankful, now, that the postmaster's cow had gone dry, and that these observant mountaineers had not had an opportunity to misinterpret my conduct, I at once hurried toward the hill, hopeful that at the top some bovine might be housed, whose product could lawfully be acquired.
This mystery centers in and around the postmaster's daughter. Come, now, you are a reasonable person. Admit the cold, hard truth, and then give play to your fancy." "Sir," said Hart, brandishing his pipe again, "I suggest that you and I, here and now, form a mutual admiration society."
A moment later, as he stood tensely in the alcove, came the postmaster's cry of "One letter for Louise Martin," and the green curtain swung aside to admit her. She returned from the sanctum composedly. He waited a moment that they might not reappear together, and came out with eyes shining and heart a-beat. He had kissed her! He had kissed her! The entrance of Mrs.
Ultimately, it would seem, Robinson went with the stretcher-bearers, because Grant and the girl saw no more of him for the time. Grant had received several shocks since rising from the breakfast-table, but it was left for Doris Martin, the postmaster's daughter, to administer not the least surprising one.
This was reasonable enough; and we finally agreed to retain two of the horses, taking the postmaster's for a third. The region we now traversed was almost a wilderness. There were grazing-farms in the valley, with a few fields of oats or barley; but these soon ceased, and an interminable forest enclosed us.
A stout maid-servant, wearing the costume and cap of Picardy, entered in haste, and thus addressed her mistress: "Madame, there is a person here that wants to speak to master; he has come in the postmaster's calash from Saint-Valery, and he says that he is M. Rodin." "M. Rodin?" said the bailiff rising. "Show him in directly!" A moment after, M. Rodin made his appearance.
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