"There is no name upon it," said she, taking a letter out of her scrip and looking at it.

"It is directed to the young man in Mumper's Dingle." "Then it is for me, I make no doubt," said I, stretching out my hand to take it.

"Please to pay me ninepence first," said the old woman.

"However," said she, after a moment's thought, "civility is civility, and, being rather a scarce article, should meet with some return.

Here's the letter, young man, and I hope you will pay for it; for if you do not, I must pay the postage myself." "You are the postwoman, I suppose," said I, as I took the letter.