As we are all aware, she was staying with her ladyship at Framley Court.
"Oh, but it's mortial wet," said the shivering postman as he handed in that and the vicar's newspaper.

The vicar was a man of the world, and took the _Jupiter_.
"Come in, Robin postman, and warm theeself awhile," said Jemima the cook, pushing a stool a little to one side, but still well in front of the big kitchen fire.
"Well, I dudna jist know how it'll be.

The wery 'edges 'as eyes and tells on me in Silverbridge, if I so much as stops to pick a blackberry." "There bain't no hedges here, mon, nor yet no blackberries; so sit thee down and warm theeself.

That's better nor blackberries, I'm thinking," and she handed him a bowl of tea with a slice of buttered toast.

Robin postman took the proffered tea, put his dripping hat on the ground, and thanked Jemima cook.