"Where is the post office? Why, over to Thirlwall, to be
sure," replied Mr. Van Brunt, glancing up at her from his work
"faster, Johnny."
"And how often do the letters come here?" said Ellen.
"Take care, Johnny! — some more water — mind your business,
will you? — Just as often as I go to fetch 'em, Miss Ellen,
and no oftener."
"And how often do you go, Mr. Van Brunt?"
"Only when I've some other errand Miss Ellen; my grain would
never be in the barn if I was running to the post-office every
other thing — and for what ain't there, too. I don't get a
letter but two or three times a-year I s'pose, though I call —
I guess — half-a-dozen times."
"Ah, but there's one there now, or soon will be, I know, for
me," said Ellen. "When do you think you will go again, Mr. Van
Brunt?"
"Now, if I'd ha' know'd that, I'd ha' gone to Thirlwall
yesterday — I was within a mile of it. I don't see as I can go
this week, anyhow, in the world; but I'll make some errand
there the first day I can, Miss Ellen — that you may depend
on. You shan't wait for your letter a bit longer than I can
help."
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Van Brunt — you're very kind. Then the
letters never come except when you go after them?"
"No; — yes — they do come once in a while by old Mr. Swaim,
but he han't been here this great while."
"And who's he?" said Ellen.
"Oh, he's a queer old chip that goes round the country on all
sorts of errands; he comes along once in a while.
Pages:
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232