ook of contempt at the
Postmaster, who at once becoming invertebrate and groveling, mumbled
that he must "get on" to the Crossing, and rose to go. But the old man,
who had counted on his presence for moral support, and was clearly
beginning to hate him for precipitating this scene with his daughter,
whom he feared, violently protested.

"Sit down, can't ye? Don't you see you're a witness?" he screamed
hysterically.

It was a fatal suggestion. "Witness," repeated Flip, scornfully.

"Yes, a witness! He gave ye letters and bundles."

"Weren't they directed to me?" asked Flip.

"Yes," said the Postmaster, hesitatingly; "in course, yes."

"Do _you_ lay claim to them?" she said, turning to her father.

"No," responded the old man.

"Do you?" sharply, to the Postmaster.

"No," he replied.

"Then," said Flip, coolly, "if you're not claimin' 'em for yourself,
and you hear father say they ain't his, I reckon the less you have to
say about 'em the better."

"Thar's suthin' in that," said the old man, shamelessly abandoning the
Postmaster.

"Then why don't she say who sent 'em, and what they are like," said the
Postmaster, "if there's nothing in it?"

"Yes," echoed Dad. "Flip, why don't you?"

Without answering the direct question, Flip turned upon her father.

"Maybe you forget how you used to row and tear round here because
tramps and such like came to the ranch for suthin', and I gave it to
'em? Maybe you'll quit tearin' round and letting yourself be made a
fool of now by that man, just because one of those tramps gets up and
sends us some presents back in turn?"

"'Twasn't me, Flip," said the old man, deprecatingly, but glaring at
the astonished Postmaster. "'Twasn't my doin'. I allus said if you cast
your bread on the waters it would come back to you by return mail. The
fact is, the Gov'ment is getting too high-handed! Some o' these bloated
officials had better climb down before next leckshen."

"Maybe," continued Flip to her father, without looking at her
discomfited visitor, "ye'd better find out whether one of those
officials comes up to this yer ranch to steal away a gal about my own
size, or to get points about diamond-making. I reckon he don't travel
round to find out who writes all the letters that go through the Post
Office."

The Postmaster had seemingly miscalculated the old man's infirm temper,
and the daughter's skillful use of it. He was unprepared for Flip's
boldness and audacity, and when