The Hawaiian star. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu]) 1893-1912, 1896-10-22
THE POSTMISTRESS.

The blstering July day was Drawing to
close. 1t seemed TO Lydia Spencer as II
Canaan Corners had never been so hot or
so drcary before. She was postmistress
ard store clerk at the Corners. Day after
day for years she had slr.ci over the stage
mails, the county p-plrs and the letters.
The day had been a busy one in the store,
end 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
postotlce end of the store.
Lydia was between 40 and 3d. "Nigh
on to i5, 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 fam
ming herself. He was shutting awkward
/ ly 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. l s'pose
they're just trash what got brushed aside
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
trifies and asking her unnecessary ques-
tions
Her mind was far away. Farmer Rat
cliffe that day, as he mopped the sweat
from his furrowed face in the postoflice,
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 25 years. Twenty
five yearsl Yes it had been just that long
since she had seen John Butterworth-
since he gave her "a 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
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 favor
able answer and then she waited Ah the
dying of great hope! How tenaciously it
clings to life! How anXiously she awaited
tiGings from John Butterworthl But none
came The summers came and went.
Twenty-Five years ago, and she had been
thinking of John Butterworth that day.
Looks ez if rats had chawed 'em 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 postof1ice began spinning around
and boBbing up and down. A hurricane
seemed to catch her and dash her head
against distant cliff.
"There, there, Miss Lyddy," said the
big carpenter, tanning her with his straw
hat. "The heats been too much fur you,
l guess.
Trembling like q child, She once more
looked at the letter-her own letter of &C
eptance-plighting her troth for better OF
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 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 a note to the proprietor Of
, the Bulls Head hotel, New York city, she
told him to forward the letter to Chicago.
Nervously she let it fall into the gaping
mouth of the mailbag. The stage took il
on its way that night.
Two weeks later a gray haired man-ont
J of Chicago's leading capitalists-was one
t morning opening his mail. He came TO q
) yellowed envelope which had been forward
ed from New York. 1t bore several rubber
stamp marks and Chicago postofficC
clerk had written on it:
"Try 361 Dearborn street."
"Send Jack in, 4" said John Buttcrwortl
to his head clerk.
"Jack, my boy" said the father in 1
/ low voice and nervously, tread this ole
letter, which has been 20 years in reaching
me"
"Jack," continued the elder after hi
request had been complied with, "you will
have to postpone your vacation. I'm go
. ing to take one at Canaan Corners, n. Y
never expected to marry again after you
dear mothers death, my boy, but If tn,
writer of that letter is alive and willing
you'll have new mother inside of TIVE
weeks"
l
The Canaan Corners stage one evening
few days later carried a gray haired stran
ger.
. you'll find Lyddy at the postofIice
. said the driver. "She's postmistress, al
every one knows Lyddy"
q Had she seen him coming? Everything
t was still IN the postofiice when John But
s terworth entered Looking through tn
o glass case he saw golden haired woman
her face close to the table top. She wa
:, resting her averted face on her forearm
- and sobbinU like a child