“Does your messenger know what is in the bag?”
She nodded, amused, saying carelessly:
“Of course you trust your post-rider?”
“Absolutely.”
The Special Messenger swung her foot absently to and fro, and presently opened another letter:
Dear Mr. Deal:
I am sending you twenty more peach pits for planting. What you write me about the bees is satisfactory. I have received the bees you sent. There is no reason why you should not make the exchange with Mr. Enderly, as it will benefit our hives as well as Mr. Enderly’s to cross his Golden Indias with my Blacks.
The Messenger studied the letter thoughtfully; askance, the officer watched the delicate play of expression on her absorbed young face, perhaps a trifle incredulous that so distractingly pretty a woman could be quite as intelligent as people believed.
She looked up at him quietly.