"Mis' Field," it said.
She turned, and saw the postmaster coming toward her with a letter in his hand.

The lounging men twisted about and stared lazily.

The postmaster was a short, elderly man with shelving gray whiskers, and a wide, smiling mouth, which he was drawing down solemnly.
"Mis' Field, here's a letter I want you to look at; it come this mornin'," he said, in a low voice.
Mrs.Field took the letter.

It was directed, in a fair round hand, to Mrs.Esther Maxwell; that had been her dead sister's name.

She stood looking at it, her face drooping severely.