OCR Text |
Show ( I X)iIlco Called for Tact. The dny was cold vory cold. In fact i H"n,, tllP nos,nia9r at Stisquaha, a mall Canadian town, fell asleep ovor n stovo In his easy chair heforo ho read half th,o postcards. Tho noisy rushing Matt of U)0 reC(( curt tj,t tred for a llonr j,r()Ugnt hjm back Kr i eani,anl w'tl a start. A strap- K t l f00tIndlan ,n ul1 11,0 B,ori' of 8 . 8100(1 be'0"! Mm. calmly 3a?t Ielter," Impressively com. Wei the dusky caller. h. 0' P'easc," urbanely Inquired "Postmaster. (iRuahano my name. Want lettor." , 7,rry Goahano, but there's nothr "filtlouer," , 11 Ulcro Isn't any for ou. iBftiQ Rot letturl" .jm bon?"' """toily wrote him one, ( II 'Vofihlofl Inoso no chief," "Cati'i help ihat, old mat.. Yon see. It s -Olvt Inoso U.crt Ko RreGui.hno lottort Illghti mill WnntlHt.r." "What's tho matter hcicV" cried an olil Uritlsh resident, breaking In nt this Juucturo. "H's going to kill' me because I won't glvo bltu a letter when there's none for him.1' . ''Pshaw! Just tear olT a plo r wrapping paper, sprinkle some Ink over it und givn It to him. You'vo got to iisu somu mot mid Judgment In (illlelat-log (illlelat-log this olllce, old chap." Pearson's Weekly |