“Sartin,” he announced promptly. “I've got a stack of stuff for the postman, myself. Bills and checks they are, mostly. Serena usually attends to the house bills, but she's kind of under the weather this morning. Say, Gertie,” gravely, “it costs a sight to run this place, did you know it?”
“I suppose it does.”
“You bet it does! Why, I never realized—But there, I suppose likely these bills are heavier than usual. I suppose they are. Good land! if they ain't! But, of course they are. I'll ask Serena about 'em by and by, when she's better. Give me your letter, Gertie, I'll mail it.”
“You won't forget?”
“Not a mite. I'll put it right here with the others and give 'em to the postman when he comes. Humph! it's to John, isn't it? You're pretty prompt in your writin', ain't you? But that's natural; I remember when I used to write your mother twice a day. It's a wonder she stood it and kept her health, ain't it. Ha! ha!”
He chuckled and turned back to his bills and the checkbook. Gertrude left the room.
Captain Dan wrote and enclosed and affixed stamps. The pile of envelopes on the table grew steadily larger. Mr. Hungerford entered, seeking the cigar box.
“Good-morning,” he observed, cheerfully.
Daniel looked up, grunted, and went on with his work. Cousin Percy smiled. A querulous voice called from the second floor.
“Daniel!” called Serena. “Daniel, where are you? Why don't you come up? I am all alone.”