She was poorly dressed, and her shoes
were coarse and coated with dust, but her face was pretty and sweet.
In front of the meeting-house she stopped and sat down on a log near
the road-side. When people passed she would draw her sun-bonnet over
her face and turn her head from them. Suddenly she rose and trudged on
to the post-office.
It was a busy day at Cartwright, and the little porch was filled with
loungers. Old Jim Hunter was there with his long-barrelled rifle and a
snarling opossum, the tail of which was held between the prongs of a
split stick. When the animal showed a disposition to bite anybody, or
crawl away, he subdued it instantly by turning the stick and twisting
its tail. Joe Longfield had come with a basket of eggs packed in
cotton-seed to exchange for their value in coffee, and the two wags
were entertaining the crowd with jokes at the expense of each other.
As the girl passed into the store Martin Worthy was weighing a pail of
butter for a countryman in a slouch hat and a suit of brown jeans. She
returned his nod and went to the little pen in the corner in which the
mail was kept.
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