All the mail matter had been distributed, everybody but Mr Madison Chalkley had left the room; and when the old gentleman, as was his wont on the first day of the month, had gone up to the desk, untied the bundle of uncalled-for letters, the outer ones permanently rounded by the tightness of the cord, and after carefully looking over them, one by one, had made his usual remark about the folly of people who wouldn't stay in a place until their letters could get to them, had tied up the bundle and taken his departure; then Miss Harriet put the empty mail bag under the desk, and went up-stairs where an old lady sat by the window, sewing in the fading light. "No letters for you to-day, Mrs Keswick," said she. "Of course not," was the answer, "I didn't expect any." "Don't you think," said Miss Harriet, taking a seat opposite the old lady, "that it is about time for you to go home and attend to your affairs?" "Well, upon my word!" said Mrs Keswick, letting her hands and her work fall in her lap, "that's truly hospitable. I didn't expect it of you, Harriet Corvey." "I wouldn't have said it," returned the postmistress, "if I hadn't felt dead certain that you knew you were always welcome here. But Tony Miles told me, just before the mail came in, that the lady who's at your place is running it herself, and that she's going to use pickle brine for a fertilizer." "Very likely," said Mrs Keswick, her face totally unmoved by this intelligence--"very likely. That's the way they used to do in ancient times, or something of the same kind. They used to sow salt over their enemy's land so that nothing would ever grow there. That woman's family has sowed salt over the lands of me and mine for three generations, and it's quite natural she should come here to finish up." There was a little silence after this, and then Miss Harriet remarked: "Your people must know where you are. Why don't they come and tell you about these things?" "They know better," answered Mrs Keswick, with a grim smile. "I went away once before, and Uncle Isham hunted me up, and he got a lesson that he'll never forget. When I want them to know where I am, I'll tell them." "But really and truly"--said Miss Harriet "and you know I only speak to you for your own good, for you pay your board here, and if you didn't you'd be just as welcome--do you intend to keep away from your own house as long as that lady chooses to stay there?"