Guiding the pony to the fence, Betty stood up and broke a switch from an overhanging tree.
"I hate to do it, you poor old fellow," she said, "but I must.

You _must_ get to the post-office in time." Urged along by the switch and her tearful pleadings, Lad broke into a run and brought up at the post-office, just as the postmistress was locking the mail-bag.

"Oh, Miss Mattie!" sounded an anxious little voice at the delivery window, "is it too late to send this letter?
Mrs.Sherman said it must go, if possible, on this train." "It's a close shave, my dear," said Miss Mattie, reaching out to take the letter eagerly thrust through the bars.

"I'm a few minutes late, anyhow, and there's barely time to stamp it and slip it in, so!" She acted while she spoke, so that with the last word she had turned the key.

A coloured porter, who stood waiting, caught up the bag and hurried across the road to the railroad station.