The postmaster decided that he wouldn't go. The other man hurried out,
while the government employe helped himself not only to another handful
of crackers, but to a liberal slice of cheese as well. He stood
munching his crackers and cheese and gazing out reflectively into the
gathering twilight, when he suddenly started and peered more keenly.
That which had attracted his attention was a stoop-shouldered man. The
fellow wore a soft hat, the brim of which was slightly turned up in
front, but his face was well masked by a huge pair of green automobile
goggles.
"Well, I swum!" ejaculated the postmaster. "If I didn't know the
feller was in jail up at Concord, I'd say that was Big Charlie.
Hm-m-m. No. This one is too stooped for Charlie. Charlie's six foot
two in his socks. I wonder who this fellow is?"
Even then the mail train was whistling, and the postmaster began
bustling about preparing to receive the evening mail, always an event
for him as well as for the villagers, who ordinarily flocked into the
office, hoping to catch sight of a familiar handwriting or hear a name
mentioned that would give them foundation for a bit of gossip.
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