Delicacy restrained Betsy from inquiring which of the contracting parties was thus apostrophized by a fond sister, and in a few minutes her caller left.
By a strange coincidence Mrs. Pogram was present a week later, when one afternoon Captain Salter approached his cottage laden with a heavy wooden case which he carried on his shoulder. He groaned in spirit as he beheld through the window the visitor’s ample sable proportions.
“That’s goin’ to be Betsy’s trouble,” he muttered. “Everybody thinks too darned much of her.”
He gave the caller a cheerful nod, however, as he entered the living-room. He was too happy himself not to let good cheer overflow upon all mankind.
Betsy regarded the heavy case with surprise.
“What ye been sendin’ to Boston for?” he asked, lowering his burden.
“Nothin’. To Boston? There’s some mistake.”
She approached and read the inky address. “Mrs. Hiram Salter.” The name was clear.
Hiram brought some tools and opened the wooden box, then began to take out the packing within.