I reckon he don't travel round to find out who writes all the letters that go through the Post Office." The Postmaster had seemingly miscalculated the old man's infirm temper, and the daughter's skillful use of it.

He was unprepared for Flip's boldness and audacity, and when he saw that both barrels of the accusation had taken effect on the charcoal-burner, who was rising with epileptic rage, he fairly turned and fled.

The old man would have followed him with objurgation beyond the door, but for the restraining hand of Flip.
Baffled and beaten, nevertheless Fate was not wholly unkind to the retreating suitor.

Near the Gin and Ginger Woods he picked up a letter which had fallen from Flip's packet.

He recognized the writing, and did not scruple to read it.