“Why, I dropped it in the box over yonder. I want to take it back again.”
“That’s against our rules, ma’am; I am not allowed to give back a letter unless I know all about it.”
“Well, then, there’ll be a fuss here, that’s all: I want my letter again.”
“I’ll call the chief clerk, then, ma’am. You can make the fuss with him, if you must have one.”
Mr. Booth was summoned. With his usual blandness he asked the lady how the letter was directed, and to whom. He obtained a prompt reply. He found that the lady had dropped the letter into the box under the general delivery-window. He produced it from the basket after a little search, and returned it to her. She appeared considerably pleased, brushed off the letter with her handkerchief, and at once dropped it into the basket under the ladies’ window, before which she was standing.
“Why, I thought you wanted to take out the letter!” said Mr. Booth, in some surprise. “Here you’ve mailed it again.”
“That’s all right now,” said the woman. “That’s what I wanted. I dropped the letter in the wrong place fust, among the men’s letters. I hate the men, so I do. I hain’t goin’ to have my letter mixed up with men’s letters, nohow.”
“You dislike the male sex then, madam?”
“I don’t hate you mail folk, as I know on, wuss than the rest on ’em.”
“I mean the men, madam; you dislike them?” said Mr. Booth, emphasizing the title of masculinity.