It was a fatal suggestion. “Witness,” repeated Flip, scornfully.
“Yes, a witness! He gave ye letters and bundles.”
“Weren't they directed to me?” asked Flip.
“Yes,” said the Postmaster, hesitatingly; “in course, yes.”
“Do YOU lay claim to them?” she said, turning to her father.
“No,” responded the old man.
“Do you?” sharply, to the Postmaster.
“No,” he replied.
“Then,” said Flip, coolly, “if you're not claimin' 'em for yourself, and you hear father say they ain't his, I reckon the less you have to say about 'em the better.”
“Thar's suthin' in that,” said the old man, shamelessly abandoning the Postmaster.