The letters were being sorted. She could hear the double bang-bang of the postmarking.
"I wish to see the Postmaster," said Diana.
The Postmaster was summoned, and, hurrying out, bowed low before the mistress of Riverscourt. She did not often come, in person, even to the new post-office.
Diana knew she had a difficult matter to broach, and realised that she must not be imperious.
D. R. might reign at Riverscourt; but E. R. was sovereign of the realm! Her love-letter to David had now become the property of the King; and this courteous little person, bowing before her, was, very consciously, the King's official in Riversmead. Was not E. R. carved with many flourishes on a stone escutcheon on the face of the new post-office?
Diana, curbing her impatience, smiled graciously at the Postmaster.
"May I have a few words with you, in your private room, Mr. Holdsworth?" she said.
Full of pleased importance, the little great man ushered her into his private sanctum, adjoining the sorting-room.
A bright fire burned in the grate. The room was new, and not yet papered; and the autumn evening was chill. Diana walked up to the fire, drew off her gloves, and, stooping, warmed her hands at the blaze.
Then she turned and faced the Postmaster.