It was about five o’clock in the afternoon that Peter entered a small market-town.
There were a good many people in the streets, for it was market-day, and there was an air of leisurely business about the place; completed business chiefly, for already stalls were being dismantled, and unsold butter, eggs, and chickens were being repacked in big baskets. Small groups of men stood about together discussing the weather and the prospect of the various crops. Carts drove slowly down the steep High Street, returning to outlying farms.
Peter walked up the hill. One or two people turned to look at him. Something about him—probably the peacock feather in his hat—attracted attention.
Half-way up the street stood a big red-brick [Pg 22]post-office. It was an imposing edifice, and seemed to dominate the other buildings with an air of Government importance.
As Peter approached it he felt his heart beating quickly. On the steps he paused for a moment. A girl with a small Yorkshire terrier tucked under her arm was just coming out. She saw Peter on the steps, and kept her hand on the swinging door in order that he might enter. There was nothing for it but to go forward quickly and catch the door from her with a murmured word of thanks. Peter was inside the post-office. He approached the counter.
“Are there any letters for the name of Carden?” he asked. And he could hear his heart going klip-klop.
The young woman behind the counter glanced at him. Her look was rather disdainful, and she turned in a nonchalant fashion to the pigeon-holes behind her. She did not think it likely there would be letters. The young man was—A, B, C. She took a parcel and several letters from the pigeon-hole marked C and ran carelessly through them.
Peter saw her stop. She put back several [Pg 23]documents and came towards him. There was a letter and a parcel in her hand.
The girl looked at him. She was a little puzzled. Perhaps her first instinct had been at fault. In spite of the shabby coat and hat and the extremely fantastic feather, he did not look altogether a tramp. She handed the things across the counter.
“Thanks,” said Peter. He tried hard to keep a note of excited pleasure out of his voice.