AT THE STAMP WINDOW.
Just before twelve o'clock yesterday fore-noon there were thirteen men and one woman at the stamp window of the post-office. Most of the men had letters to post for the out-going trains. The woman had something tied up in a blue match-box. She got there first, and she held the position with her head in the window and both elbows on the shelf.
"Is there such a place in this country as Cleveland?" she began.
"Oh, yes."
"Do you send mail there?"
"Yes."
"Well, a woman living next door asked me to mail this box for her. I guess it's directed all right. She said it ought to go for a cent."
"Takes two cents," said the clerk, after weighing it. "If there is writing inside it will be twelve cents."
"Mercy on me, but how you do charge!"
Here the thirteen men began to push up and hustle around and talk about one old match-box delaying two dozen business letters, but the woman had lots of time.
"Then it will be two cents, eh?"
"If there is no writing inside."
"Well, there may be. I know she is a great hand to write. She's sending some flower seeds to her sister, and I presume she has told her how to plant 'm."
"Two threes!" called out one of the crowd, as he tried to get to the window.
"Hurry up!" cried another.
"There ought to be a separate window here for women," growled a third.
"Then it will take twelve cents?" she calmly queried, as she fumbled around for her purse.
"Yes."
"Well, I'd better pay it, I guess."
From one pocket she took two coppers. From her reticule she took a three cent piece. From her purse she fished out a nickel; and it was only after a hunt of eighty seconds that she got the twelve cents together. She then consumed four minutes in licking on the stamps, asking where to post the box, and wondering if there really was any writing inside,—but woman proposes and man disposes. Twenty thousand dollars' worth of business was being detained by a twelve-cent woman, and a tidal wave suddenly took her away from the window. In sixty seconds the thirteen men had been waited on and gone their ways, and the woman returned to the window, handed in the box, and said:
"Them stamps are licked on kind o' crooked, but it won't make any difference, will it?"