The Postmaster Part 36

That shook him up a mite. 'Twas common talk around town that Sim and Ike was pretty thick. He turned red under his freckles.

"No, no!" he sputtered. "Course I ain't! I'm standin' by you, Cap'n Snow, and you know it. But, all the same, Ike's a smart boy. He's gettin' rich fast, Ike is."

"Sold another cookstove, has he?"

"He sells a lot of 'em. Sold two last month. But that ain't it. He's got foresight and friends in the stock exchange up to Boston. He's buyin'

copper stocks and they-"

He stopped short; thought his tongue was runnin' away with him, I presume likely. But I was interested and I kept on.

"Oh!" says I; "he's buyin' coppers, is he? Well, where does he get the U. S. coppers to do it with? Is Uncle Ichabod backin' him? Has the old man's rheumatiz struck to his brains?"

"Course he ain't backin' him. _He_ don't know nothin' of stocks. He ain't up-to-date same as Ike. But he'll be glad enough when his nephew makes fifty thousand. When he finds that out he'll-"

"He'll never find it out on this earth," I cut in. "If he found out that Ike made fifty dollars, all on his own hook, he'd drop dead with heart disease. If he didn't, everybody else in town would. But it takes money to buy stocks, don't it? I never knew Ike had any cash of his own."

"He's in the firm, ain't he! And Hamilton and Co. are--h.e.l.lo! here comes the depot wagon."

Sure enough, 'twas the depot wagon with the mail. I took the bags from the driver and went back to help Mary sort. I'd taken to helpin' her a good deal lately-more since Jacobs left than ever afore. She said there wa'n't any need of it, but I didn't agree with her. Of course I realized that I was an old fool-but, somehow or other, I felt more and more contented with life when I was alongside of Mary. She and I understood each other and I'd come to depend upon her same as a man might on his sister-or his-well, or anybody, you understand, that he thought a good deal of and knew was square and-and so on. And she seemed to feel the same way about me.

We sorted the mail together, puttin' it in the different boxes and such.

And almost the fust thing I run across was that registered letter addressed to "Ichabod Hamilton, Jr." 'Twas a long envelope and up in one corner of it was printed the name of a Boston broker's firm. I laid it out by itself and went on sortin'.

When the sortin' and distributin' was over and the crowd had gone, I called to Sim Kelley. We didn't have Rural Free Delivery then and Sim carried the West End mail box; that is, a lot of the folks up that way chipped in and paid him so much for deliverin' their mail to 'em.

"Sim," says I, "there's a registered letter here for young Ike Hamilton.

If I give it to you will you be careful and see that he signs the receipt and the like of that?"

He was outside the part.i.tion and he come to the little window and took the letter from me. He acted mighty interested.

"Gos.h.!.+" says he, grinnin', "I wouldn't wonder if this was.... Humph! Oh, I'll be careful of it! don't you worry about that."

Just then Mary called to me. I went over to where she was settin' at her desk.

"Cap'n Zeb," she whispered, "I wouldn't send that letter by Sim. It is important, or it would not be registered, and Sim is so irresponsible.

If anything _should_ happen it would give Mr. Hamilton and the rest such a chance. And they have accused us of bein' careless already."

They had, that was a fact. One or two letters had gone astray durin' the past six months and the loss of 'em was described, with trimmin's, in the West End charges and pet.i.tion. And Sim _was_ a lunkhead. I thought it over a jiffy and then I called to Kelley once more. He was just comin' to the hooks by the door outside the mail-box racks where Mary and I and the store clerk-the one we'd hired in place of 'Dolph-hung our overcoats and hats. Sim had hung his coat there that mornin'.

"Sim," I said, "let me see that registered letter of Ike Hamilton's again, will you?" He took it out of his pocket and pa.s.sed it to me.

"All right," says I; "you needn't bother about this. I'll send a notice by you that it's here and Ike can call for it himself. I won't take any chances of your losin' it."

Well, you'd ought to have seen him! His face blazed up like a Fourth of July tar-barrel. "Chances!" he sung out. "What are you talkin' about? I cal'late I'm able to carry a letter without losin' it. I ain't a kid."

"Maybe not," says I, "but you ain't goin' to lose this one, kid or not.

Here's the notice, all made out."

"Notice be darned!" he snarled. "You give me that letter. Hamilton and Co. pay me to carry their mail, don't they? And, besides, Ike told me particular that he was expectin'-"

He pulled up short again.

"Well?" says I. "Heave ahead. What's the rest of it?"

"Nothin'," he answered, ugly; "but you've got no right to say I can't carry a letter when I'm paid to do it. As for losin' things, there's others besides me that lose mail in this town."

There's no use arguin' when a matter's all settled. I handed him the notice and walked off, leavin' him standin' outside that part.i.tion, sore as a scalded cat.

I looked at my watch. 'Twas twelve o'clock, my dinner time. I walked out to the hook rack, took down my overcoat and put it on. I had the Hamilton letter in my hand. There wa'n't any reason why I should be more worried about that registered letter than any other, but I was, just the same. Maybe 'twas because 'twas Ike's and he was so anxious to make trouble for me. Somehow or other I couldn't feel safe till he got it and signed the receipt. I thought for a minute and then I decided I'd walk up to Hamilton and Co.'s and deliver it myself. That decision was foolish, maybe, but I felt better when 'twas made. I put the letter in the inside pocket of the overcoat I had on, and just as I was doin' it Mary come out of the post-office room with her hat on.

"Oh!" says she, "are you goin' out, Cap'n Zeb? I thought-"

Then I remembered. She'd asked to go to dinner fust that day and I'd told her of course she could. I begged her pardon and said I'd forgot.

I'd wait till she got back. So, after makin' sure that I didn't care, she took her coat from the hook, put it on and went out.

I took off my overcoat and, just as I did so, somethin' fell on the floor. I stooped and picked it up. I swan to man if it wasn't that pesky Hamilton letter! Thinks I, "That's funny!" I put my hand into the pocket where it had been and there was a hole right through the linin'. Now if there's one thing I'm fussy about it is that my pockets are whole. And I _knew_ this one ought to be whole. So I looked at the coat and I'm blessed if it was mine at all! 'Twas Sim Kelley's! Both coats had been hangin' together on the hook-rack and both was blue and about the same size. I'd been saved by a miracle, as you might say.

I was comin' to feel more and more as if there was some sort of fate about that registered letter. I took it back into the post-office room, handlin' it as careful as if 'twas solid gold, and laid it down on the sortin' bench behind the letter boxes. And then somebody spoke to me through the little window.

"Cap'n Zeb," says Sim Kelley, "there's a man just drove over from Bayport to see you. Come in Gabe Lumley's buggy, he did. His name's Peters and Gabe says he's got some sort of government job."

"Government job?" says I. And then it flashed through my mind who the feller might be. The Post-office Department had said they might send an investigator. I didn't care for that, but I did wish Sim hadn't seen him.

"Oh," says I; "all right. It's the lighthouse inspector, I shouldn't wonder. Guess 'tain't me he is after. Probably I ain't the Snow he wants to see; it's Henry Snow over to the Point. Where is he?"

"Out on the platform," says Sim. I hurried out of the post-office room, lockin' the door careful astern of me. The man Peters was just comin'

into the store. I met him at the front door. We shook hands and he introduced himself. 'Twas the investigator, sure enough.

"Glad to see you," says I. "I know that may sound like a lie, but, as it happens, it ain't in this case. I ain't got anything to be ashamed of and the sooner the government finds that out the better I'll be pleased."

He laughed. He was a real good chap, this Peters man, and I took to him right off the reel. We stood there talkin' and laughin' and says he:

"Well, Cap'n," he says, "I'll tell you frankly that I'm not very much worried about the conduct of your office here at Ostable. I've made some inquiries about you, here and in Was.h.i.+n'ton, and the answers are pretty satisfactory. Congressman Shelton seems to be a friend of yours."

I grinned. "Yes," says I, "but Shelton's prejudiced, I'm afraid. He and old Major Clark ate a chowder once that I cooked and ever since they've both swore by me."

He laughed, though I could see Shelton hadn't told him the yarn.

"Humph!" says he, "that's unusual, isn't it? Judgin' by some chowders _I've_ eaten, it would be easier to swear _at_ the cook. Speakin' of eatables, though, reminds me that I'm hungry. Where's a good place to get a meal around here?"

"Nowhere," says I, prompt; "not at this season of the year, with the summer dinin'-room closed. But, if you'll wait until my a.s.sistant gets back, I'll pilot you down to the Poquit House, where I feed, and we'll face the wust together."

He was willin' to risk it, he said, and we walked back and set down in the post-office department. As we left the front door Sim Kelley went out of it, luggin' his West-End mail box. Peters and I talked. Seems he hadn't come to the Cape a-purpose to investigate me, but he had a job at the Bayport office and had took me in on the way home. After a spell Mary come back and Peters and I headed for the Poquit, where the cold fish b.a.l.l.s and warmed-over beans was waitin'.

On the way I saw old man Hamilton, Ike's uncle, totterin' along, headin'

to the west'ard this time. I pointed him out to Peters.

"There goes," I says, "one of the fellers that's trying to knock me out of my job."