Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-02-23
HIS PRIVATE HONOR.
By RudyaTa Kiplins. Copyright lso1 by the Authors Alliance All
 rights reserved


 5uJ the Dllnd devotion of Laurel Run | to John Bakers relict did not stop here. In it's zeal to assure the government authorities of the necessity of a post office, and to secure a permanent com potency to the postmistress, there was much embarrassing extravaganza. Dur ing the first week the sale of stamps at Laurel Run post office was unprecedent- | ed in the annals of the department. Fancy prices were given for the first is- sue; then they were bought wildly, recklessly, unproftably and on all oc- casions. Complimentary congratula- tions at the little window invariably ended with: "And a dollars worth of stamps, Mrs. Baker" It was felt to be supremely delicate to buy only the highest priced stamps, without refer ence to their adequacy; tLen mere quantity was sought; then outgoing letters were all overpaid, and stamped in outrageous proportion to their weight and even size. The imbecility of this, and it's probable effect on the reputation of Laurel Run at the general post office being pointed out by Mrs. Baker, stamps were adopted as local
  poses on mirrors and the walls of cabins. Everybody wrote letters, with the re- suit, however, that those sent were lu- dicrously and suspiciously in excess of those received. To obviate this, select ory Hill, the next post office, with let ters and circulars addressed to them selves at Laurel Run. How long the -N,o g. not known, but it was not until 1t was rumored that, in consequence of the excessive flow of business the depart ment had concluded that postmaster would be better fitted for the place that it abated, and a compromise was ef- fected with the general office by per manent salary to the postmistress.
 Such was the history of Mrs. Baker, who had just finished her afternoon levee, nodded a smiling ''good-by'' to her last customer and closed her shutter again. Then she took up her own let ters, but- before reading them glanced with pretty impatience at the two of fcial envelopes addressed to herself which she had shelved. They were gen. orally lot of new rules CD or notifi- cations, or "absurd' questions which had nothing to do with Laurel Run, and only bothered her and made her head ache" and she had usually referred them to her admiring neighbor at Hick- ory Hill for explanation, who had gen orally returned them to her with the brief indorsement: 'Purp stuff; don't bother" or "Hog wash; let it slide" She remembered now that he had not re- turned the two last. With knitted brows and slight pout she put aside her private correspondence and tore open the first one. It referred with of ficial curtness to an unanswered com munication of the previous week, and was ''compelled to remind her of rule IT." Again those horrid rules! She opened the others; the frown deepened on her brow, and became fixed.
 It was a summary of certain valuable money letters that had miscarried on the route, and of which they had given her previous information. For a mo- mcnt her checks blazcc. How dare they; what did they mean? Her way bills and register wcre always right; she knew the names of every man, woman and child in her district; no such names as those borne by the miss ing letters had ever existed at Laurel Run; no such addresses had ever been sent from Laurel post office. It was a mean insinuation.. She would send in her resignation at once! She would get the "boys" to write an insulting letter to Senator Slocumb-Mrs. Baker had the feminine idea of government as a purely personal institution-and she would find out who it was that had put them up to this prying, crawling impu- dence! It was probably that wall-eyed old wife of the postmaster of Heavy Tree Crossing, who was jealous of her. Remind her of their previous unan- swered communication" indeed! Where was that communication, anyway? She remembered she had sent it to her ad- mirer at Hickory Hill. Odd that he hadn't answered it. Of course, he knew all about this meanness-could he too have dared to suspect her! The thought turned her crimson again. He, Stanton Green, was an old "Laurel Runner" a friend of Johns, little ''triflin'" and ''presoomin', but still an old loyal pio- neer of the camp! "Why hadn't he spoke up?"
 There was the soft mufied fall of a horses hoof in the thick dust of the highway, the jingle of dismounting spurs, and firm tread on the platform. No doubt, one of the boys returning for few supplemental remarks under the feeble pretense of forgotten stamps. It had been done before, and she had re- sented it as "cayotin' 'round;" but now she was eager to pour out her wrongs to the first conner. She had her hand inn pulsively on the door of the partition when she stopped with new sense of her impaired dignity. Could she con-
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