Sandy
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CHAPTER XIX
THE TRIALS OF AN ASSISTANT POSTMASTER
By all laws of mercy the post-master in a small town should be old andmentally near-sighted. Jimmy Reed was young and curious. He had evenyielded to temptation once in removing a stamp on a letter fromAnnette Fenton to a strange suitor. Not that he wanted to delay theletter. He only wanted to know if she put tender messages under thestamp when she wrote to other people.
During the two years Sandy remained at the university, Jimmy handedhis letters out of the post-office window to the judge once a week,following them half-way with his body to pick up the verbal crumbs ofinterest the judge might let fall while perusing them. The supremacywhich Sandy had established in the base-ball days had lent him apermanent halo in the eyes of the younger boys of Clayton. "Letterfrom Sandy this morning," Jimmy would announce, adding somewhatanxiously, "Ain't he on the team yet?"
The judge was obliging and easy-going, and he frequently gratifiedJimmy's curiosity.
"No; he's studying pretty hard these days. He says he is through withathletics."
"Does he like it up there?"
"Oh, yes, yes; I guess he likes it well enough," the judge wouldanswer tentatively; "but I am afraid he's working too hard."
"Looks like a pity to spoil such a good pitcher," said Jimmy,thoughtfully. "I never saw him lose but one game, and that nearlykilled him."
"Disappointment goes hard with him," said the judge, and he sighed.
Jimmy's chronic interest developed into acute curiosity the secondwinter--about the time the Nelsons returned to Clayton after a longabsence.
On Thanksgiving morning he found two letters bearing his hero'shandwriting. One was to Judge Hollis and one to Miss Ruth Nelson. Thenext week there were also two, both of which went to Miss Nelson.After that it became a regular occurrence.
Jimmy recognized two letters a week from one person to one person as adanger-signal. His curiosity promptly rose to fever-heat. He even wentso far as to weigh the letters, and roughly to calculate the number ofpages in each. Once or twice he felt something hard inside, and uponsubmitting the envelop to his nose, he distinguished the faintfragrance of pressed flowers. It was perhaps a blessing in disguisethat the duty of sorting the outgoing mail did not fall to his lot.One added bit of information would have resulted in spontaneouscombustion.
By and by letters came daily, their weight increasing until theyculminated, about Christmas-time, in a special-delivery letter whichbristled under the importance of its extra stamp.
The same morning the telegraph operator stopped in to ask if theNelsons had been in for their mail. "I have a message for Miss Nelson,but I thought they started for California this morning."
"It's to-morrow morning they go," said Jimmy. "I'll send the messageout. I've got a special letter for her, and they can both go out bythe same boy."
When the operator had gone, Jimmy promptly unfolded the yellow slip,which was innocent of envelop.
Do not read special-delivery letter. Will explain.
S.K.
For some time he sat with the letter in one hand and the message inthe other. Why had Sandy written that huge letter if he did not wanther to read it? Why didn't he want her to read it? Questions buzzedabout him like bees.
Large ears are said to be indicative of an inquisitive nature. Jimmy'sstood out like the handles on a loving-cup. With all this explosivematerial bottled up in him, he felt like a torpedo-boat deprived ofaction.
After a while he got up and went into the drug-store next door. Whenhe came back he made sure he was alone in the office. Then he proppedup the lid of his desk with the top of his head, in a manner acquiredat school, and hiding behind this improvised screen, he carefully tookfrom his pocket a small bottle of gasolene. Pouring a little on hishandkerchief, he applied it to the envelop of the special-deliveryletter.
As if by magic, the words within showed through; and by frequentapplications of the liquid the engrossed Jimmy deciphered thefollowing:
--like the moan of the sea in my heart, and it will not be still. Heart, body, and soul will call to you, Ruth, so long as the breath is in my body. I have not the courage to be your friend. I swear, with all the strength I have left, never to see you nor write you again. God bless you, my--
A noise at the window brought Jimmy to the surface. It was AnnetteFenton, and she seemed nervous and excited.
"Mercy, Jimmy! What's the m-matter? You looked like you were caughteating doughnuts in study hour. What a funny smell! Say, Jimmy; don'tyou want to do something for me?"
Jimmy had spent his entire youth in urging her to accept everythingthat was his, and he hailed this as a good omen.
"I have a l-letter here for dad," she went on, fidgeting aboutuneasily and watching the door. "I don't want him to g-get it untilafter the last train goes to-night. Will you see that he d-doesn't getit before nine o'clock?"
Jimmy took the letter and looked blankly from it to Annette.
"Why, it's from you!"
"What if it is, you b-booby?" she cried sharply; then she changed hertactics and looked up appealingly through the little square window.
"Oh, Jimmy, do help me out! That's a d-dear! I'm in no end of ascrape. You'll do as I ask, now w-w-won't you?"
Jimmy surrendered on the spot.
"Now," said Annette, greatly relieved, "find out what time the d-downtrain starts, and if it's on time."
"It ought to start at three," reported Jimmy after consulting thetelegraph operator. "It's an hour late on account of the snow.Expecting somebody?"
She shook her head.
"Going to the city yourself?"
"Of course not. Whatever made you think that?" she cried withunnecessary vehemence. Then, changing the subject abruptly, she added:"G-guess who has come home?"
"Who?" cried Jimmy, with palpitating ears.
"Sandy Kilday. You never saw anybody look so g-grand. He's gotten tobe a regular swell, and he walks like this."
Annette held her umbrella horizontally, squared her shoulders, andswung bravely across the room.
"Sandy Kilday?" gasped Jimmy, with a clutch at the letter in hispocket. "Where's he at?"
"He's trying to get up from the d-depot. He has been an hour comingtwo squares. Everybody has stopped him, from Mr. Moseley on down tothe b-blacksmith's twins."
"Is he coming this way?" asked Jimmy, wild-eyed and anxious.
Annette stepped to the window.
"Yes; they are crossing the street now." She opened the sash and,snatching a handful of snow, rolled it into a ball, which she sailedout of the window. It was promptly answered by one from below, whichwhirled past her and shattered itself against the wall.
"Dare, dare, double dare!" she called as she flung handfuls of loosesnow from the window-ledge. A quick volley of balls followed, thenthe door burst open. Sandy and Ruth Nelson stood laughing on thethreshold.
"Hello, partner!" sang out Sandy to Jimmy. "Still at the old work, Isee! Do you mind how you taught me to count the change when I firstsold stamps?"
Jimmy tried to smile, but his effort was a failure. The interestingtangle of facts and circumstances faded from his mind, and he resortedinstinctively to nature's first law. With an agitated countenance, hesought self-preservation by waving Sandy's letter behind him in afrantic effort to banish, if possible, the odor of his guilt.
Sandy stayed at the door with Annette, but Ruth came to the window andasked for her mail. When she smiled at the contrite Jimmy shescattered the few remaining ideas that lingered in his brain. Withcrimson face and averted eyes, he handed her the letter, forgettingthat telegrams existed.
He saw her send a quick, puzzled glance from the letter to Sandy; hesaw her turn away from the door and tear open the envelop; then, tohis everlasting credit, he saw no more.
When he ventured forth from behind his desk the office was empty. Hemade a cautious survey of the premises; then, opening a back window,he seized a small bottle by the neck and hurled it
savagely againstthe brick wall opposite.