“No. You take the Farm mail too?” Why all this service to the Farm? And why am I so unnaturally curious? she asked herself.
“Yes, ma’am. I am, as yo’all might say, the postman hereabouts and the freight man and the general handyman, as it were.”
“I see. Then I don’t wonder you collect stamps,” Fredericka said a little absently. She wished now that he would go and let her get on with her work.
At this moment, the back door banged and Margie burst into the room.
“Have you got the Farm mail, Chris?” she asked without so much as a glance at Fredericka. “I’m just going back—”
Chris handed her the letters with a look of disappointment. It was obvious that he would have liked to have personally delivered the letter addressed to Mrs. Clay. His departure was slow and dignified.
Margie flopped
