Then the postmaster wondered, as Mrs. Anderson had done, why Major Arms was driving up with Samson Rawdy rather than in the Carroll carriage, and the others opined, as Randolph had done, that they had not expected him.
“I don't see, for my part, what they get to feed him on when he comes,” said Amidon, wisely.
The postmaster and Drake looked at him with expressions like hunting-dogs, although a certain wisdom as to his meaning was evident in both faces.
“I suppose it's getting harder and harder for them to get credit,” said Drake.
“Harder,” returned Amidon. “I guess it is. I had it from Strauss this morning, that he wouldn't let them have a pound of beef without cash, and I know that Abbot stopped giving them anything some time ago.”
“How do they manage, then?” asked the postmaster.
“Strauss says sometimes they send a little money and get a little, the rest of the time he guesses they go without; live on garden-sauce—they've got a little garden, you know, or grocery stuff.”
“Can they get trusted at the grocer's?”
“Ingram won't trust 'em, but Anderson lets 'em have all they want, they say.”
“S'pose he knows what he's about.”