"Miss Galbraith—Mr. MacNeil."
The old man nodded carelessly without looking at her.
"If any mail is forwarded here for her, put it in with mine. She will be my guest for a time."
"There's mail here yet for your last—guest," the old man answered in a tone of ill-concealed contempt, and he added with a touch of malice: "She left so sudden she didn't give me no forwardin' address."
Spiser gave him a furious look but explained glibly enough to Nan: "A lady-friend of my sister's that got homesick."
The old post-master looked up in some surprise as though wondering why Spiser took the trouble to lie. Then for the first time he really looked at Nan.
Nan felt herself coloring under the scrutiny of his quizzical gray eyes, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable without knowing why.
"If you should get—homesick, too, Miss," he said significantly and with a new respect in his voice, "why, don't forget that I'm your nearest neighbor."
