Bess blushed, but the postman coming down the hall toward the offices relieved her discomfiture and perhaps saved the situation. It was hard for Bess to keep a secret from Nan.
Now they both paused to speak to the genial old man who brought their mail up from the village. “Anything for us?” It was Nan who spoke.
“Sure, and if it isn’t pretty Nan Sherwood this fine mornin’,” the old Irishman paused to look through the mail he was carrying. “And pray, who’d be after writing you in this springtime. Is it poetry you are expecting from some good-looking young gentleman?”
Bess giggled and Nan blushed till even the tips of her ears were pink.
Old Pat went on fingering his way through the mail, “Dr. Prescott, Professor Krenner, Lakeview Hall, Dr. Prescott again. Sure and she’s a fine lady. And another and another for her.” He looked up regretfully at the girls. “There’s none for you today,” he shook his head sadly, for Pat did love a romance. “Sure and you’d better tell him where he is headin’ in,” he shook an admonishing finger at Nan as he started on.
“But Pat,” Nan and Bess stopped him again, “are you sure there’s nothing there for us from Tillbury?” Pat sighed and looked through again.
“So you’ll not give up,” he chuckled. “Well, let’s see. Till—Tillbury,” he almost spelled out as he looked at the postmarks. Nan put out her hand.
“But it’s not for you, girlie. Not today. Nothing for either of you,” he added and walked on, leaving two very crestfallen and somewhat worried girls behind him.
At first neither spoke, and Bess swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Nan put an arm around her shoulder. “Never mind, honey,” she consoled. “We’ll probably hear tomorrow.”
“But there was something there from Tillbury, I saw it.”