swered, turning back toward the gallery steps;—"come this way!"
I followed her as far as the doorway of the tiniest room I had ever seen,—just large enough to contain a safe, an office desk, and a chair. It was cozy, carpeted, and well lighted by a little window fronting the sea. I saw a portrait hanging above the desk,—a singularly fine gray head, with prophetic features and Mosaic beard,—the portrait of the island's patriarch. . . .
"You see," she observed, in response to my amused gaze, while she carefully unlocked the safe,—"when papa and mamma are at work in the field, I have to take charge. Papa tells me what to do.—How many did you say?—four!—that will be ten cents.—Now, if you have a letter to post, you can leave it here—if you like."
I handed her my letter—a thick one—in a two-cent envelope. She weighed it in her slender brown hand;—I suspected the postage was insufficient.
"It is too heavy," she said;—"you will have to put another stamp on it, I think."
"In that case," I replied, "take back one of
