tuffy little office and partake
of a lemonade with the addition of a stronger fluid from a bottle in
Flint's room, he forgot his wrath or drowned it in the cooling drink,
and at length parted in kindliness, only bidding his patient wear
cabbage-leaves in his hat, and be sure to take wraps in case of a
change in the weather, not forgetting to put on his "gums" if he
walked on the wet beach.

When he had gone, Flint found the Doctor's gold-bowed spectacles in a
chair. "Brady and I will walk up with them this evening," he said to
himself. "Perhaps I was not as civil to the old gentleman as I might
have been."

When Marsden learned that Flint was planning an expedition to South
East, he suggested that he would "take it kindly" if Flint could make
it convenient to bring down a few packages of groceries, as some of
the store supplies had run out, and the relays were not expected until
the next day.

Flint reproached himself for weakness in complying, and growled still
further when he saw the length of the list which Marsden handed to him
as he took his seat in the carryall.

"What a cursed fool I am," he muttered as he drove off, "to hire this
man's beast for the privilege of doing his errands!"

The three-o'clock train puffed into the station at South East nearly
an hour behind time. The period of waiting in the intense mid-day heat
had not improved Flint's temper. For all his hearty greeting to Brady,
he could not shake off a sense of irritation, intensified by the fact
that he had no one on whom to wreak it.

Brady's trunk was strapped onto the carryall, the various bottles,
jugs, and packages which Flint, with such unusual urbanity, had
consented to bring down to the Beach for Marsden, were stowed away
under the seat, and nothing remained but the mail. To get this Flint
drew up at the post-office. The postmaster was a grouty old
store-keeper who, through political influence, retained his position
in spite of the efforts of the town's-folk to oust him. This afternoon
a line of wagons stood at the door, and a line of men stood at the
little window within. Seeing his own name in the list of those for
whom there were letters, Flint waited for the window to open, and took
his place in the line. When he reached the window, he asked for his
letter.

"No letter for you," growled the postmaster.

Flint stepped out of line and consulted the list. There was no
mistake. Again he presented himself before the window.

"Wha