she
must know. They argued concerning this for many days, days of the
ending of summer, of shortening evenings, and as they argued autumn
grew nearer and nearer and the green letter from China.

And at last he promised that when the green letter came he would take
it as usual to the lonely house and then hide somewhere near and creep
to the window at nightfall and hear what the grim folk said; perhaps
they might read aloud the letter from China. And before he had time
to repent of that promise a cold wind came one night and the woods
turned golden, the plover went in bands at evening over the marshes,
the year had turned, and there came the letter from China. Never
before had Amuel felt such misgivings as he went his postman's rounds,
never before had he so much feared the day that took him up to the
wold and the lonely house, while snug by the fire his wife looked
pleasurably forward to curiosity's gratification and hoped to have
news ere nightfall that all the gossips of the village would envy.
One consolation only had Amuel as he set out with a shiver, there was
a letter that day for the last house in the lane. Long did he tarry
there to look at their cheery faces, to hear the sound of their
laughter--you did not hear laughter in wold-hut--and when the last
topic had been utterly talked out and no excuse for lingering remained
he heaved a heavy sigh and plodded grimly away and so came late to
wold-hut.

He gave his postman's knock on the shut oak door, heard it reverberate
through the silent house, saw the grim elder man and his gristly hand,
gave up the green letter from China, and strode away. There is a clump
of trees growing all alone in the wold, desolate, mournful, by day, by
night full of ill omen, far off from all other trees as wold-hut from
other houses. Near it stands wold-hut. Not today did Amuel stride
briskly on with all the new winds of autumn blowing cheerily past him
till he saw the village before him and broke into song; but as soon as
he was out of sight of the house he turned and stooping behind a fold
of the ground ran back to the desolate wood. There he waited watching
the evil house, just too far to hear voices. The sun was low already.
He chose the window at which he meant to eavesdrop, a little barred
one at the back, close to the ground. And then the pigeons came in;
for a great distance there was no other wood, so numbers shelter
there, though the clump is small and of so evil a