Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-02-23

| rienced but feminine eye detected the keynote of his responsibility in the carefully tied bow of his cravat. The Sierran throat was apt to be open, free and unfettered.
 'Good morning, Mrs. Baker, he said, pleasantly, with his hat already in his hand.
 "I'm Harry Home, of San Francisco" 7" As he spoke his eyes swept approyingly over the neat inc1osure, the prim1y-tied papers, and wellkept pigeon holes; the pot of flowers on her desk; her china silk mantle, and killing little chip hat, and ribbons hanging against the wall; thence to her own pink, flushed face, bright blue eyes, tendrilled clinging hair, and then-fe1 upon the 1eathern mailbag still lying across the table. Here it became fixed on the unfortu- nate wire of the amorous expressman that yet remained hanging from the brass wards of the lock, and he reached his hand toward it. But little Mrs. Baker was before him, and seized it in her arms. She had been too preoccupied and bewildered to re- sent his first intrusion behind the par tition, but this last familiarity with her sacred official property-albeit empty capped the climax of her wrongs.
 "How dare you touch it?' she said, indignantly. "How dare you come in here? Who are you, anyway? Go out side at oncer'
 The stranger fell back with an amused deprecatory gesture, and long, silent laugh. 'I'm afraid you don't know me. after all!' he said, pleasantly. 'I'm Harry Home, the department agent from the San Francisco office. My note of advice, No. POI, with my name on the envelope, seems to have been mis- carried, too"
 Even in her fright and astonishment it flashed upon Mrs. Baker that she had sent that notice, too, to Hickory Hill. But with it all the feminine secretive in- stinct within her was now thoroughly aroused, and she kept silent.
 q ought to have explained" he went on, smilingly; "but you are quite right, Mrs. Baker," he added, nodding toward the bag. "As far as you know, had no business to go near 1t. Glad to see you know how to defend Uncle Sam's property so well. was only bit pug zled to know" (pointing to the wire), Eff that thing was on the bag when it was delivered to you?"
 Mrs. Baker saw no reason to conceal the truth. After all, this official was a man like the others, and 1t was just as well that he should understand her power. Its only the expressman's foolishness,'' she said, with a slightly coquettish toss of her head. "He thinks it smart to tie some nonsense on that bag with the wire when he fings it down.
 MT. Home, with his eyes on her pretty face, seemed to think it a not inhuman or unpardonable folly. "As long as he doesn't meddle with the inside of the bag, I suppose you must put up with it,' he said, laughingly. A dreadful recollec- tion that the Hickory Hill postmaster had used the inside of the bag to con- vey his foolishness, came across her. It would never do to confess it now. Her fare must have shown some agitation, for the official resumed, with a half paternal, half-reassuring air: But enough of this. Now, Mrs. Baker, to come to my business herel Briefly, then, it doesn't concern you in the least, except so far as it may relieve you and some others that the department knows equally well from certain responsibil- ity, and, perhaps, anxiety. We are pretty well posted down there in all that concerns Laurel Run, and think" (with slight bowl "we've known all about you and John Baker. My only business here Is to take your place to- night in receiving the omnibus way bag that you know arrives here at 9:3O; doesn'tit?'
 'Yes, sir," said Mrs. Baker, hurried ly; "but it never has anything for us, except-"(she caught herself up quickly with stammer, as she remembered the signing Greens occasional offerings)- "except notification from Hickory Hill post office. It leaves there," she went on, with an afeectation of preci- sion, lat half-past eight exactly, and it's about an hours run-seven miles by road"
 Exactly" said Mir. Home. "Well, I will receive the bag, open it and dis patch it again. You can, if you choose, take holiday"
 But" said Mrs. Baker, as she re- membered that Laurel Run always made point of attending her evening levee on account of the superior leisure it offered, ''there are the people who come for letters, you know"
 'I thought you said there were no letters at that time," said MT. Home, quickly.
 "No--but-but-"(w slight hys- terical stammer)-"the boys come all the same"
 "Oh!" said Mir. Home, dryly.
 "And-O Lord!" But here the specta- cle of the possible discontinue of Laurel Run at meeting the bearded face of MT. Home, instead of her own smooth cheeks, at the window. combined with her nervous excitement, overcame her so that, throwing her little frilled apron over her head, she gave way to parox- ysm of hysterical laughter. MT. Home waited with amused toleration for it to stop, and when she had recovered re- sumed: "Now, should like to refer an instant to my first communication to you. Have you got it handy?" A RT