“She’ll find out, of course,” said Mr. Goddard, “that the sergeant really has gone off in the direction of Rosivera, and taken Cole with him. That ought to pacify her to some extent. Still, I think I’ll avoid an interview as long as I can.”
By walking through the deer park and approaching the village cautiously, Mr. Goddard succeeded in getting into the post-office unseen. After a short search he discovered Jimmy O’Loughlin’s niece, a red-haired girl, who sold stamps and sent off and received telegrams. She was indulging in what looked like a flirtation with the station-master, in the millinery department of the shop. Mr. Goddard called her away from her companion.
“Susy Lizzie,” he said, “come here. I want you.”
“Is it stamps?” she asked, “or is it a postal order?”
“It’s neither the one nor the other,” said Mr. Goddard; “it’s a telegram. In fact, it’s as many telegrams as will keep you busy for the rest of the afternoon, so there won’t be any use the station-master waiting for you till you’ve done.”
Susy Lizzie tossed her head and walked defiantly down the shop to her proper counter. She established herself behind a sort of wire screen and pushed a sheaf of telegraph forms towards Mr. Goddard.
“Take those things away,” he said. “I’m coming inside there to watch you send off my wires and to wait for the answers.”
Susy Lizzie by way of reply drew Mr. Goddard’s attention to a printed notice which forbade members of the general public entering the inner precincts of the office.
“If you go on with any more of that nonsense,” said Mr. Goddard, “I’ll tell your uncle the way I found you this minute with the station-master.”
It was one thing to be bullied by Miss Blow, quite another thing to endure the official insolence of Susy Lizzie. Mr. Goddard felt that he was man enough to make a stand against that.