The Story of Jessie

Produced by Lionel Sear
Chap.
Thomas Dawson was busy in the kitchen trying to make the kettle boil, and to get the fire clear that he might do a piece of toast. He had already tidied up the grate and swept the floor, and as he stood by the table with the loaf in his hand, about to cut a slice, his eye wandered down through the dewy, sunny garden, where every tree and bush was beginning to show a little film of green over its brown branches.
But before he could notice anything in the garden, his attention was attracted by the sight of Daniel Magor, the postman, standing at the gate and fumbling with the latch. Thomas dropped the loaf and the knife, and went out to meet him, leaving the house-door wide open to the beautiful morning sunshine, which poured in in a wide stream right across the kitchen, lighting up with golden radiance the flowers in the window, the old-fashioned photographs on the wall, the china on the dressers, and the cat lying asleep on the scarlet cushion in the arm-chair by the fire.
When he saw Thomas coming the postman ceased fumbling with the latch and waited, holding two letters in his hand.
Lovely weather, Mr. Dawson. You ain't to work this morning! he remarked in a tone of surprise.
Thomas shook his head slowly. No, my wife is bad, she've been bad all night with a sick headache. She's better this morning, but I stayed home to get her some breakfast, and tidy up a bit. When anybody's sick they don't feel they want to do much.
You'm right, agreed the postman feelingly. I gets sick headaches very bad myself, and when I wakes with one it seems to me I don't care whether folk gets their letters or not. I am glad I didn't feel like that this morning, Mr. Dawson, for it's good to be alive on such a day, and I've got two letters for you.
Both of 'em for me! said Thomas in surprise, and holding out his hand to take them. I don't think I've had two to once in my life before.
The postman laughed. If folks didn't get more than you do we postmen would soon be out of a job, I reckon! But Thomas was gazing at his letters with such a perplexed, preoccupied air, that he did not reply, and Daniel, with a long, inquiring look at him, said Good-morning, and went on his way.