in the dust of the great highway, half a mile from the settlement.
There she was installed for certain hours of the day, for she could not
be prevailed upon to abandon John's cabin, and here, with all the added
respect due to a public functionary, she was secure in her privacy.

But the blind devotion of Laurel Run to John Baker's relict did not stop
here. In its zeal to assure the Government authorities of the necessity
for a post-office, and to secure a permanent competency to the
postmistress, there was much embarrassing extravagance. During the first
week the sale of stamps at Laurel Run post-office was unprecedented
in the annals of the Department. Fancy prices were given for the first
issue; then they were bought wildly, recklessly, unprofitably, and
on all occasions. Complimentary congratulation at the little window
invariably ended with "and a dollar's worth of stamps, Mrs. Baker." It
was felt to be supremely delicate to buy only the highest priced stamps,
without reference to their adequacy; then mere QUANTITY was sought; then
outgoing letters were all over-paid and stamped in outrageous proportion
to their weight and even size. The imbecility of this, and its probable
effect on the reputation of Laurel Run at the General Post-office, being
pointed out by Mrs. Baker, stamps were adopted as local currency,
and even for decorative purposes on mirrors and the walls of cabins.
Everybody wrote letters, with the result, however, that those SENT were
ludicrously and suspiciously in excess of those received. To obviate
this, select parties made forced journeys to Hickory Hill, the next
post-office, with letters and circulars addressed to themselves at
Laurel Run. How long the extravagance would have continued is not
known, but it was not until it was rumored that, in consequence of
this excessive flow of business, the Department had concluded that a
postMASTER would be better fitted for the place that it abated, and a
compromise was effected with the General Office by a permanent salary to
the postmistress.

Such was the history of Mrs. Baker, who had just finished her afternoon
levee, nodded a smiling "good-by" to her last customer, and closed her
shutter again. Then she took up her own letters, but, before reading
them, glanced, with a pretty impatience, at the two official envelopes
addressed to herself, which she had shelved. They were generally a "lot
of new rules," or notifications, or "absurd" questions which ha