Page:The wood-carver of 'Lympus by Waller, Mary E. (Mary Ella), 1855-1938.djvu/329

Rh "I ought to be; I'm an old Californian," replied the man.

"Thet so?" said the driver without any show of surprise. "Jest tell Mis' Armstrong—thar she comes now!—ther ain't no mail ter-day ter celebrate the Hornet's fun'ral; she'll hev ter git it from Farnsfield ter-morrer."

The passenger watched the stage climb the rise beyond and disappear over the brow of the hill. Then he turned, and with outstretched hands went to meet the figure that was coming lightly down the pasture slope from the last bars.

"There's no mail, Twiddle," he said; and the two went back together up the Pent Road.