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Read, Opie Percival, 1852-1939

"The Starbucks"

And I want to tell
you that you may have any letter in this shop, don't make no odds who
it's writ to. I'm allus glad to have folks come. I set here day after
day, by myself a good deal of the time, and I like comp'ny, too; uster
be a mighty hand to go round, but sorter give it up atter I got busy.
Now, let me see whar I put them letters." He scratched his head. "I had
'em yistidy, I'm certain of that." He went behind his counter, shook a
barrel, looked into it--looked into a cracker box, into a crock jar, and
brought out a handful of letters. "Oh, I know'd they was here somewhar,"
he said. "Elliott, Mayfield," he repeated, looking at the letters.
"Here's one for Endiott--'bout as near as I can come to you, young
feller. Will that do?"
"Of course not," Tom answered. "It isn't for me."
"Near enough, ain't it. Oughtn't to blame a man when he's doin' the best
he can. I can't hit at you at all, Mrs. Mayfield. Ain't nuthin' here
that sounds like you."
"Really," she said, "this is a remarkable post-office."
"One of the best, ma'm," replied the post-master.


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