“Good-evening, Mr. Graham,” said the widow, gravely.
“Good-evening, ma'am,” said the storekeeper. “I've called to see you, Mrs. Carr, about the post office, I presume you have heard—”
“I have heard that you are to be my successor.”
“Just so. As long as your husband was alive, I didn't want to step into his shoes.”
“But you are willing to step into mine,” said Mrs. Carr, smiling faintly.
“Just so—that is, the gov'ment appear to think a man ought to be in charge of so responsible a position.”
“I shall be glad if you manage the office better than I have done.”
“You see, ma'am, it stands to reason that a man is better fitted for business than a woman,” said Ebenezer Graham, in a smooth tone for he wanted to get over this rather awkward business as easily as possible. “Women, you know, was made to adorn the domestic circles, et cetery.”
“Adorning the domestic circle won't give me a living,” said Mrs. Carr, with some bitterness, for she knew that but for the grasping spirit of the man before her she would have been allowed to retain her office.
“I was comin' to that,” said the new postmaster. “Of course, I appreciate your position as a widder, without much means, and I'm going to make you an offer; that is, your boy, Herbert.”