“Yes, a mailman wants good horses,” he answered, well pleased. “That’s one thing about me, I always look after my nags. Why, I’d rather go short myself than see ’em hungry!”
“Fancy!” said Mollie.
“Yes, as long as Ted’s on the line, you’ll never see poor mail horses. I couldn’t be like some of them other chaps you see knocking round, with horses like bags of bones; I always say the gee-gees first.”
“Fancy!” said Mollie again, not taking a bit of interest in Ted’s rambling.
“Do you remember old Dave, Mrs., that used to run this mail last year? Why, he was always eight or ten hours late. Recollect?”
“Yes, indeed, I do,” said Mother, coming out to view Ted’s wonderful “nags,” much to the little girls’ disgust, for another day she would not bother.
“We’ll never get it away,” whispered Eileen.
“Let’s have a stroll,” said Mollie, as she saw Ted drawing out pipe and tobacco, preparatory to filling his pipe before he continued his journey. So the two of them strolled round the “bend,” to wait till Ted came along.
“Of all the bad luck,” grumbled Mollie. “Another day Mother wouldn’t see Ted at all, and we could have just given him the letter without any trouble.”
“It’s always the way,” sighed Eileen.