The storekeeper nodded.

“How much?” demanded the postmaster.

“Four seventy-three.  Knocked down from five dollars.  Wish I’d known he was going to draw down ten dollars a week for this job.  I’d have got four seventy-five at least for the boots.”

“Never mind, you can let Jan make it up on something else,” comforted the postmaster.  “Reckon I’ll go down to the station to see the folks come in.”

“I was going to ask you to look after the store while I went down,” returned the grocer.

The postmaster decided that he wouldn’t go.  The other man hurried out, while the government employe helped himself not only to another handful of crackers, but to a liberal slice of cheese as well.  He stood munching his crackers and cheese and gazing out reflectively into the gathering twilight, when he suddenly started and peered more keenly.  That which had attracted his attention was a stoop-shouldered man.  The fellow wore a soft hat, the brim of which was slightly turned up in front, but his face was well masked by a huge pair of green automobile goggles.

“Well, I swum!” ejaculated the postmaster.  “If I didn’t know the feller was in jail up at Concord, I’d say that was Big Charlie.  Hm-m-m.  No.  This one is too stooped for Charlie.  Charlie’s six foot two in his socks.  I wonder who this fellow is?”

Even then the mail train was whistling, and the postmaster began bustling about preparing to receive the evening mail, always an event for him as well as for the villagers, who ordinarily flocked into the office, hoping to catch sight of a familiar handwriting or hear a name mentioned that would give them foundation for a bit of gossip.

It was while he was thus engaged that five young girls and a young woman some years their senior got down from a coach to the railway platform, where they stood gazing expectantly about them.  The young women were dressed in tasteful blue serge suits, with hats of the same material, a sort of uniform, the villagers decided, and, had not the station platform been too dark, the eager spectators would have seen that the faces of the visitors were tanned almost to swarthiness.

“Shall I ask some one if Mr. Janus Grubb is here?” questioned one of the girls.

“No, wait a moment, Harriet,” answered the young woman in charge of the party, “I will ask.  Surely the guide should be here to meet us, since Miss McCarthy’s father had arranged for it.”

“You are looking for a guide, Miss?” questioned a voice at her side.  Miss Elting, the guardian of the party, glanced up inquiringly.  She looked into a face of which she could see but little.  The most marked feature of the face was a pair of huge green automobile goggles.  These gave to the face, which she observed wore a peculiar pallor, a sinister effect, caused no doubt by the goggles.

“We are looking for Mr. Janus Grubb.  Are you he?” she asked sharply.