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Updated: May 6, 2025
Careful as he has been I've got him," he kept repeating over and over to himself. He left the train at Cadeville and ran to the postmaster's house, president of the "Nigger Rulers," and he was out of breath when he arrived there. He sat down, fanned himself with his hat, and when sufficiently recovered, said: "Well, we will have to fix that nigger, Piedmont. He is getting too high."
There was nothing to notice in his look or in his manner. The witness offered a remark on the weather; and the gentleman said, "Yes, it looks like a bad night" and so went away. The postmaster's evidence was of importance in one respect: it suggested the motive which had brought the deceased to Zeeland. The letter addressed to "J. B." was, in all probability, the letter seen by Mrs.
Again, this people is eager to proselytize; and the postmaster's daughter used to argue with me by the half-hour about my heresy, until she grew quite flushed. I have heard the reverse process going on between a Scots-woman and a French girl; and the arguments in the two cases were identical.
The wind was in the west, and the fitful air came in from the withered garden and breathed upon Rand's forehead. He stood for perhaps five minutes looking at the letter, then with a curious and characteristic gesture of decision he walked to the high counter and with his own hand dropped it into the mail-bag, then waited to see it covered by the drift from the postmaster's fingers.
I looked at Boss, and wondered whether in Indiana it were felony to milk another man's cow in his absence, with no ginger jar at hand, into which to drop a compensatory dime. Then I saw that she was dry, and concluded that to attempt it might be thought a violation of ethics. The postmaster's well, too, proved to be a cistern, pardon the Hibernicism, and so I went farther.
His distrust in the integrity of the postmaster's daughter in such a matter prevented his sending any further message by the wires than one requesting Stafford to be at home to receive his letter between twelve and one, when his messenger might be expected to arrive.
He snatched two other letters from the heap on the counter while the postmaster's back was turned, paid the elevenpence, received the epistle to which he was entitled, and rode home triumphant. "Look at that!" he exclaimed, slapping the three letters down under his broad fist on the table before the astonished squire. "He made me pay elevenpence, by gor!
So she did, and while she was doin' it she told the postmaster's wife that she didn't have no bunion and no pain that it was all a mistake." "'You wouldn't think so, says the postmaster's wife, 'if it was your foot that had the mistake on it. She was awful mad at first, but, after she got calmed down, the book-woman told her what she meant."
"Isn't nothin'!" he cried, with fine scorn. "That don't need to worry you. Ain't we got the tallest pine in creation right here on the spot?" The postmaster's eyes widened. Even Kate was startled at the suggestion. "You'd cut down the old tree?" she inquired. "Wher's your sense?" demanded Dy roughly. "Cut down the old pine? Who's goin to do it? Who's got the grit?"
They remained two or three hours in that town, and whilst Mauroy was arranging some necessary affairs, M. de Lafayette remained lying on some straw in the stable. It was the postmaster's daughter who recognised the pretended courier Saint Jean de Luz, from having seen him when returning from the Passage harbour to Bordeaux.
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