Whether that was possible or not depended upon this remote postal authority.
I entered the little shop, and passed from bright sunshine to a twilight smelling of paraffin and black-striped peppermint balls.

An old woman with a mutch sat in an arm-chair behind the counter.

She looked up at me over her spectacles and smiled, and I took to her on the instant.

She had the kind of old wise face that God loves.
Beside her I noticed a little pile of books, one of which was a Bible.
Open on her lap was a paper, the _United Free Church Monthly_.

I noticed these details greedily, for I had to make up my mind on the part to play.
'It's a warm day, mistress,' I said, my voice falling into the broad Lowland speech, for I had an instinct that she was not of the Highlands.
She laid aside her paper.