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Tracy, Louis, 1863-1928

"The Postmaster's Daughter"

"
"How fortunate that the Dorothy Perkins is popular!" laughed Grant. "Will
your paper publish photographs of the principals in this affair?"
"I expect so. I've a fine collection--the jury, all in a row--and you,
making that speech to the mob."
"Oh! Will that appear?"
"By Jove, yes, sir. It was wired off before the inquest opened."
Grant reddened slightly. His own impetuous action had blurted out to the
whole world that which Steynholme was only thinking. No wonder Furneaux
had warned him to go slow. Perhaps the little man was annoyed because of
his challenge to the village crowd? Well, be it so. He meant, and would
live up to, every word of it!
The afternoon dragged after the pressman's departure. What Grant really
hungered for was a heart-to-heart talk between Doris Martin and himself.
But, short of a foolish attempt to carry the post office by storm, he saw
no means of realizing his desire. He must, perforce, await the less
troubled hours of the morrow or next day. Doris would surely give her
father an exact account of the conversation between Grant, Furneaux, and
herself that morning, and that greatly perplexed man could hardly fail to
see how unjust was the tittle-tattle of the village.


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