The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-09-17
THE POSTMISTRESS.

The blistering July day was drawing to
a close. Tt seemed to Lydia Spencer as If
Canaan Corners had never been so hot or
50 dreary before She was postmistress
and store clerk at the Corners. Day after
day for years she had sorted over the stage
mails, the county papers and the letters
The day had been busy one in the store,
and to add to the confusion Lydia had re-
Gently bought new set of boxes to take
the place of the dingy little portfolios which
for 25 years had done continuous service
under different postmasters. A carpenter
had worked that afternoon tearing away
the old case and generally overhauling the
postOffice end of the store.
Lydia was between 40 and so. ''Nigh
on to 40, been two year older n my hoy Jer-
ry," old Mrs Davidge said to her friends
when Lydia's age was discussed. ''But,
law, she don't look it, an she don't act it.
Them towheaded girls never look ez old
ez they really be.
The carpenter stopped hammering and
came to where the pOstmistress was fan
ming herself. He was shutting awkward
" half a dozen letters, yellow with age
and somewhat rat eaten.
See here, Lyddy, are these any good?''
asked he holding out the letters. 81 found
'em down behind the wainscoting. I s'pose
an no account whatever"
The postmistress of Canaan Corners took
the letters with but little show of interest.
People were always running to her with
trifes and asking her unnecessary ques-
tions.
Her mind was far away. Farmer Rat
clitfe that day, as he mopped the sweat
from his furrowed face in the postofice,
said to her:
''Some folks don't know what hard
work is. Now, I've been workin. Been
plOwin that six acre patch back O. my
grainary, Lyddy, where you an my sister
Ann used to play. 'Tain't been plowed
afore in 20 years. -
The six acre patch, Lydia Spencer had
been thinking that morning, was much
like her heart, in which the love sod had
been unfurrowed for rs years Twenty
five yearsl Yes, it had been just that long
since she had seen John Butterworth-
since he gave her lovers look and then,
cheerily assuring her that they would soon
meet again, had gone to New York. Their
letters had been earnest and full of feel
ing, and finally he wrote asking her if she
would marry him, telling her that he had
not been successful in business as yet, but
that if she said Yes'' he would come back
to Canaan Corners and they would go to
Chicago Bravely had she penned a favor
able answer, and then she waited. All, the
clings to Life! How anxiously she awaited
tidiDgs from John ButterwOrthl But none
came. The summers came and went.
TWnety-ffFe years ago, and she had been
thinking of John Butterworth that day.
''Looks ez if rats had chawed 'eIn some,
don't it, asked the carpenter as Lydia
stepped closer to the window to inspect the
musty letters.
The very first one of the lot gave her
senses shock, ''John Butterworth, Bulls
Head Hotel, Bowery, N. Y. City
The red sun turned black. The Canaan
Corners postofice began spinning around
and bobbing up and down. A hurricane
against distant cliff.
There, there, Miss Lyddy,' said the
big carpenter, tanning her with his straw
hat. 1.-The heats been too much fur you,
guess"
Trembling like a child, she once more
looked at the letter-her own letter of &C
ceptance-plighting her troth for better or
for worse, through evil and good report
1t seemed to her as if her heart would burst
in agony. She knew now why john But |
terworth had never come back. She had |
appeared to him as unwilling to share his |
fortunes. Lydia Spencer was q firm wom- |
an. In justice to herself she determined to |
make an effort to reach John Butterworth |
with the belated letter. 1t had no post |
mark. Taking the marker, she removed |
the figures ''94" and substituted "69."
Then, writing note to the proprietor of |
the Bull's Head hotel, New York city, she |
told him to forward the letter to Chicago. |
she let it fall into the gaping |
mouth of the mailbag. The stage took it |
on its way that night
Two weeks later a gray haired man-one !
of Chicago's leading capitalists-was one
opening his mail He came to a /
yelIowed envelope which had been forward
ed from New York. 1t bore several rubber
stamp marks, and a Chicago postofdce
clerk had written on it:
TRY 361 Dearborn street "
"Send Jack in, - said John Butterworth
TO his head clerk.
"Jack, my boy" said the father in
low voice and nervously, "read this old
letter, which has been % years in reaching
me- e."
Jack" continued the elder after his
request had been complied WITH ''you will
have to postpone your vacation. I'm 60
ing to take one at Canaan Corners, n. Y.
never expected te marry again after your
lear mothers death, my boy, but if the
writer of that letter is alive and willing
you'll have a new mother inside of two
weeks. -
The Canaan Corners stage one evening a
few days later carried gray haired stran-
ger.
You'll find Lyddy at the postof1ce,"
aid the driver. "She's postmistress, an
Every one knows Lyddy"
Had she seen him comingP Everything
vas still in the postoffice when John But
5erworth entered. Looking through the
glass case, he saw golden haired woman,
her face close to the table top. She was
'estinR her averted face on her forearm