In vain! Mrs.Triplet came down, and essayed the blandishments of the softer sex.
In vain! And, as there were no assets, the postman marched off down the road.
Mrs.Triplet glided after him like an assassin, beckoning on Triplet, who followed, doubtful of her designs.

Suddenly (truth compels me to relate this) she seized the obdurate official from behind, pinned both his arms to his side, and with her nose furiously telegraphed her husband.
He, animated by her example, plunged upon the man and tore the letter from his hand and opened it before his eyes.
It happened to be a very windy morning, and when he opened the letter an inclosure, printed on much finer paper, was caught into the air and went down the wind.

Triplet followed in kangaroo leaps, like a dancer making a flying exit.
The postman cried on all good citizens for help.

Some collected and laughed at him; Mrs.Triplet explaining that they were poor, and could not pay half a crown for the freight of half an ounce of paper.

She held him convulsively until Triplet reappeared.
That gentleman on his return was ostentatiously calm and dignified.