Miss Mary Rosebury left her chair at the breakfast-table and hurried out
to the rose-covered porch as a heavy step was heard upon the gravel; and
directly after a sturdy-looking man, with half-a-dozen leather bags
slung from his shoulder, appeared at the door.
"Fine morning, miss. Two letters--three letters--four letters.
`Stan'ard,' `Gar'ner's Chronkle,' `Beekeep's Junnel;' that's all, miss;"
and before the little lady had had time to speak, the heavy step was
receding over the gravel. "Four letters for you, Arthur. Shall I open
them?"
"Please, my dear Mary," said the Reverend Arthur, without evincing the
slightest interest in the arrival of the post, for he was carefully
filling up the holes in some well-made dry toast with the freshest of
fresh butter.
Miss Mary Rosebury laid the letters upon the table while she fished a
spectacle-case from her pocket, balanced her glasses upon her rather
decided-looking nose, gave the two little bunches of curls on either
side of her white forehead a shake, and opened the first letter, reading
aloud:
"`Messrs. Spindle and Twist beg to call your attention to a very curious
sherry, and'--um--um--um--um--Ah! you don't want to lay down sherry, do
you, Arthur?"
"No, my dear Mary," said her brother; and letter number two was opened.
"`Mr Hazelton is now prepared to make advances upon personal security
to the clergy, gentry--' Bah! money-lenders!" exclaimed Miss Mary
Rosebury, throwing aside the second letter. "I wish these people
wouldn't bore us with their applications. What's this?"
As she spoke she took up a large blue official-looking envelope.
"Looks important, my dear Mary," said the Rev Arthur, displaying a
little more interest.
"Yes," said his sister, turning the letter over. "Oh! Arthur, suppose
it means preferment at last--a vicarage somewhere."
"I don't think I should be very much pleased, my dear Mary. I am very
happy here."
"Oh, yes, of course we are, Arthur; but as I have often said, there does
seem to be a something wanting, and--`The directors of the New
Polwheedle and Verity Friendship Tin Mining'--Oh, dear, dear, just as if
we had money to throw down Cornish mines. What's this? I don't know
this hand. There's a crest upon the envelope, and `H.B.' in the corner.
Oh! it's from Doctor Bolter."
"Postmark Penang?" said the Reverend Arthur. "Wondered I had not heard
from him."
"No, it's from London. Let me see. All about specimens, I suppose."