But we must return to the Post Office, where Laura in the course of her duties was to come to know almost every one.

35

At the Post Office

Sometimes Sir Timothy would come in, breathing heavily and mopping his brow if the weather were warm. “Ha! ha!” he would say. “Here is our future Postmistress-General. What is the charge for a telegram of thirty-three words to Timbuktu? Ah! I thought so. You don’t know without looking it up in a book, so I’ll send it to Oxford instead and hope you’ll be better informed next time I ask you. There! Can you read my handwriting? I’m dashed if I can always read it myself. Well, well. Your eyes are young. Let’s hope they’ll never be dimmed with crying, eh, Miss Lane? And I see you are looking as young and handsome as ever yourself. Do you remember that afternoon I caught you picking cowslips in Godstone Spinney? Trespassing, you were, trespassing; and I very properly fined you on the spot, although not as yet a J.P.—not by many a year. I let you off lightly that time, though you made such a fuss about a mere—”

“Oh, Sir Timothy, how you do rake up things! And I wasn’t trespassing, as you very well knew; it was a footpath your father ought never to have closed.”

“But the game birds, woman, the game birds—” And, if no one else happened to come in, they would talk on of their youth.

For Lady Adelaide, Sir Timothy’s wife, the footman usually did business while she sat in her carriage outside, but occasionally she herself would come rustling in, bringing with her a whiff of perfume, and sink languidly down in the chair provided for customers on their side of the counter. She was a graceful woman, and it was a delight to watch her movements. Laura, who sat behind her in church, admired the way she knelt for the prayers, not plumping down squarely with one boot-sole on each side of a substantial posterior, as most other women of her age did, but slanting gracefully forward with the sole of one dainty shoe in advance of the other. She was tall and thin and, Laura thought, aristocratic-looking.

For some time she took no more notice of Laura than one would now of an automatic stamp-delivering machine. Then, one day, she did her the honour of personally inviting her to join the Primrose League, of which she was a Dame and the chief local patroness. A huge fête, in which branches from the surrounding villages joined, was held in Sir Timothy’s park every midsummer, and there were day excursions and winter-evening entertainments for the benefit of Primrose League members. It was no wonder the pretty little enamelled primrose badge, worn as a brooch or lapel ornament, was so much in evidence at church on Sundays.