The last suggestion seemed to serve as a passport to the confidence of the postmaster.  Leading the way into the switch-house, he remarked, “Come in heear.  Neow, what is it?”

“The fact is, Mr. Morris, some friends of mine propose to go into a little speculation, which will involve a large correspondence; and for reasons that I need not specify to a man like you, they do not wish to have every ragtag, bobtail post-office clerk poring over their letters, and asking impertinent questions at the delivery-window.  If they can find a shrewd, square man, who knows how to keep his mouth shut, and who can’t be fooled, that for a handsome consideration will put the letters away in a safe place till called for, they are willing to make an arrangement that will be profitable all around.  You have been recommended as just the person.  I am told that you generally know which side your bread is buttered, and have called to see if we can’t arrange to pull together.”

“’Nuff said,” ejaculated Morris, with a sly wink.  “I know what yeou want, but my wife is the one to fix things.  I don’t have nuthin’ to dew with the letters.  Sue ’tends to everything.  The folks as we’se a-workin’ for said we must be plaguey keerful about the deetecters.  I’ll bet nun on ’em can’t play it on my wife tho’.  If they dew, they’ll have to git up arly in the mornin’.”

With that he thrust his head out of the window, and yelled:  “Sue, Sue!”

As the sound died away, a tall, raw-boned female, from whose cheeks the bloom of youth had faded a number of years before, emerged from the side door of a two-story cottage, about eighty rods distant, and walked briskly to the switch-house, where she was introduced to the stranger as “my wife.”

After a little preliminary skirmishing, she invited the agent to go over to the cottage.  Having been duly ushered into the “best room,” he embellished for her benefit the story already told to the husband.

“I think I kin ’commodate yeou,” she broke forth, “but yeou’ll have to pay putty well for’t.  Laws me, I’m told—­and I’ve ways o’ heerin’ ’bout these things—­that the deetecters are jest as likely as not to come a-swoopin’ deown enny minnit.  Yeou know, if they feound it out, we’d be smash’d.”

Her terms were ten dollars a week.  Highfalutin & Co. paid six, but she understood the business a great deal better now than when she made the bargain with them.  The agent thought the price rather high, but finally consented to contract at that figure.

Then, as if troubled by an after-thought, he said, “Madam, how do I know but some of these ‘deetecters’ may come around, and, seeing my letters, get me into difficulty?”

“Why, laws a’ mercy,” said she, “don’t be skeer’d.  Yeou jest leave that to me.  The minnit them air letters gits here, I hides ’em in that bewro-draw’r,” pointing to an article of furniture in the corner.

“Is it a safe place?” queried the agent.