, won't it? Nobody in it but you and me--and Belcher!
We'll outwit them yet. And, you see, you'll be obliged to come to me,
after all, without my asking."

They both laughed; indeed, quite a dimpled, bright-eyed, rosy, innocent
pair, though I think Leonidas was the more maidenly.

"And," added Leonidas, with breathless eagerness, "I can sometimes write
to--to--Jim, and inclose your letter."

"Angel of wisdom! certainly. Well, now, let's see--have you got any
letters for the post to-day?" He colored again, for in anticipation of
meeting her he had hurried up the family post that morning. He held out
his letters: she thrust her own among them. "Now," she said, laying her
cool, soft hand against his hot cheek, "run along, dear; you must not be
seen loitering here."

Leonidas ran off, buoyed up on ambient air. It seemed just like a
fairy-book. Here he was, the confidant of the most beautiful creature he
had seen, and there was a mysterious letter coming to him--Leonidas--and
no one to know why. And now he had a "call" to see her often; she would
not forget him--he needn't loiter by the fencepost to see if she wanted
him--and his boyish pride and shyness were appeased. There was no
question of moral ethics raised in Leonidas's mind; he knew that it
would not be the real Jim Belcher who would write to him, but that made
the prospect the more attractive. Nor did another circumstance trouble
his conscience. When he reached the post-office, he was surprised to see
the man whom he knew to be Mr. Burroughs talking with the postmaster.
Leonidas brushed by him and deposited his letters in the box in
discreet triumph. The postmaster was evidently officially resenting some
imputation on his carelessness, and, concluding his defense, "No, sir,"
he said, "you kin bet your boots that ef any letter hez gone astray for
you or your wife--Ye said your wife, didn't ye?"

"Yes," said Burroughs hastily, with a glance around the shop.

"Well, for you or anybody at your house--it ain't here that's the fault.
You hear me! I know every letter that comes in and goes outer this
office, I reckon, and handle 'em all,"--Leonidas pricked up his
ears,--"and if anybody oughter know, it's me. Ye kin paste that in your
hat, Mr. Burroughs." Burroughs, apparently disconcerted by the intrusion
of a third party--Leonidas--upon what was evidently a private inquiry,
murmured something surlily, and passed out.

Leonidas was puzzled. That big man seemed to be