After their lapse, he twice spent an hour at the Post Office, in a fruitless attempt to get near the little window.

On returning from the second of these absences, he found the letter waiting for him; it had been delivered by hand.
So far good: Polly had risen to his fly! He broke the seal.
DEAR SIR, I shall be happy to help you with your new flag if I am able.

Will you kindly send the old one and the stuff down by my brother, who is coming to see me on Saturday.

He is working at Rotten Gully, and his name is Ned.

I do not know if I sew well enough to please you, but I will do my best.
I REMAIN, YOURS TRULY, MARY TURNHAM.
Mahony read, smiled and laid the letter down--only to pick it up again.
It pleased him, did this prim little note: there was just the right shade of formal reserve about it.