This was rather cowardly on his part. Yet he felt that he could not let the girl, out of the kindness of her heart, make a further exhibition on the floor of herself with him.
The young farm manager kept out of Lettie's way as much as possible for the rest of the evening. And he did go home early.
"I hope you enjoyed yourself, Hi," said Mr. Bronson, when the boy bade him good-bye. "Seems to me I didn't see you dancing much. Don't you care for it? Too sensible, I bet!"
His employer's cordiality was not to be doubted. Lettie seemed just as sweet to him as she could be. Yet Hiram was glad when he was jogging back to the farm behind Jerry. Society was not a condition in which Hiram Strong could shine.
The next time he had occasion to drive to Pringleton the young manager of Sunnyside Farm went to the post office for a special purpose.
"Is there any letter here for Mr. Orrin Post?" he asked the young woman who presided over the local mail.
"Why, Mr. Strong!" she exclaimed, "you don't take the Posts' mail."
"Why don't I take Orrin Post's letters—if he has any?"
"Because Orrin Post lives clear down at the other end of Number Three route—almost fifteen miles east of the town. And you don't look anything like Orrin Post," she added, smiling.
"Don't I?"