ed--until we were startled
by a cry from Lunette:

"Look a' this, Will Hunson!" said she; "look a' this, will ye? A whole
pot o' strawberry jam soaked right plumb inter the middle o' the United
States Governmunt!"

It was only too true. The pile of letters and papers which she had
emptied onto the moulding table were red and glowing as the summer rose.

Will hung his dismayed head.

"Be them ructions, or ain't they?" coldly demanded Lunette, pointing to
the awful pile.

"I didn't mean to," said Will.

"Didn't mean to!" cried Lunette. "Didn't mean to, lived in a lean-to!"

Blasted by terror and sarcasm, we all hung our heads. Snipe grovelled
in still farther behind my legs.

"There 's got to be something done!" cried Lunette. "Folks's got to
learn 't the United States Governmunt is a awful an' a solemn an' a
turrible thing. What ef it sh'd be told 't we hadn't no more respec'
for her down here to the Basin 'n to soak her through with strawberry
jam an' molarsses! These here ructions have been a-goin' on too long
with the Basin post-office. I'm a-goin' to fill out a blank an' send
it to Washin'ton!"

Snipe howled. Lively apprehension, none the less poignant for being
vague, sat on every pale brow.

"Here," continued Lunette, "'s major's business letters, looks as
though they'd been a-settin' in the dentist's chair, havin' all the old
stumps extracted for a whole set of uppers and unders!"

Lunette's comparison, though tragic, was not inapt.

"Here"--blind terror yielded to curiosity on many features--"here is
Jennie Cossey's letter from her beau, down to New London, with a
cardboard dagarrier in it. Yes," said Lunette, manipulating the
envelope curiously and holding it to the light; "I knew 't the next
thing he'd be sendin' his pictur'. How 'd you feel, Will Hunson, ef
you was stan'in' in his shoes an' had gone an' combed yer hair 'tell
yer arm ached, an' stuck the end o' yer hankercher outer yer pocket,
an' had yer pictur' took, an' then sot down an' wrote a lot o'
sweetness to wrop around it--an' when she took it out have it look like
Injuns a-yellin' on the warpath!"

"Say, Lunette," said honest Will, his handsome face redder than any of
the lively imageries she had called up to terrorize his conscience; "I
got that front hair fascinater ye wanted, an' I sold the spruce gum for
two dollars for ye. Look a' here!"

"Will Hunson, don't ye ride no more strawberry jam an' molarsses down
here i