“We could ask at the post office too,” said Daisy. “They know everyone, because the postman delivers letters.”
“Oh - we could ask the postman!” said Larry, pleased. “Of course. He’s been postman here for years and years. He would be sure to know who used to live at Milton House.”
“Yes. That’s a good idea,” said Daisy. “We can easily ask him. How shall we do it? We can’t ask him straight out. I mean, it would seem a bit funny to say, ‘Did a John Henry Smith live with his mother at Milton House years ago?’ Wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Larry. “I’ll think out something tonight, and I’ll hang about tomorrow morning about eleven, when he delivers the second lot of letters.”
So, just before eleven the next morning, Larry and Daisy were swinging on their front gate, watching for old Sims the postman.
He came along as usual, disappearing into first one house and then another. Larry called to him as he came near:
“Hallo, Sims! Any letters for me?”
“No, Master Larry. Why, is it your birthday or something?” said Sims.
“Oh no!” said Larry. “Gracious! What a crowd of letters you have to deliver, Sims! Have you got to deliver all those by the second post? Do you have a completely empty bag by the time you get back to the post office?”
“Yes,” said Sims, “unless some one has addressed a letter wrong-like. Then, if I can’t find out where the person lives, I have to take it back. But I knows where most people lives!”