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Tracy, Louis, 1863-1928

"The Postmaster's Daughter"


So, avoiding Mrs. Bates, whose fell intent it was to ask him what he
wanted for dinner, he struck off along the road to Knoleworth, walked
eight miles in two hours, and reached The Hollies about seven o'clock,
rather inclined for a meal and much more contented with life.
Minnie announced that a gentleman "who brought a bag" had been awaiting
him since half-past five, and was now asleep on the lawn! A glance at the
aforesaid bag, still reposing in the entrance hall, sent Grant quickly
into the garden. A long, broad-shouldered person was stretched on a
wicker chair, and evidently enjoying a nap. A huge meerschaum pipe and
tobacco pouch lay on the grass. The newcomer's face was covered by a
broad-brimmed, decidedly weather-beaten slouch hat, which, legend had it,
was purchased originally in South America in the early nineties, and had
won fame as the only one of its kind ever worn in the Strand.
"Hullo! Wally! Glad to see you!" shouted Grant joyously.
The sleeper stirred.
"No, not another drop!" he muttered. "You fellows must have heads of
triple brass and stomachs of leather!"
"Get up, you rascal, or I'll spill you out of the chair!" said Grant.


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