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Phillpotts, Eden, 1862-1960

"Lying Prophets"


"The air's like milk just now, sure 'nough, an' 'twill bide so till noon;
then, when the sun begins to slope, the cold will graw an' graw to frost.
An' no harm done, thank God."
He spoke to his niece, who was in the room behind him; and as he did so a
circumstance of very unusual nature happened. Two persons reached the front
door of the farm simultaneously, and a maid, answering the double knock,
returned a moment later with two communications, both for Mary Chirgwin.
"Postman, he brot this here, miss, an' a bwoy from Mouzle brot t'other."
The first letter came from London, the second, directed in a similar hand,
reached Mary from the adjacent fishing hamlet. She knew the big writing
well enough, but showed no emotion before the maid. In fact her self
command was remarkable, for she put both letters into her pocket and made
some show of continuing her labors for another five minutes before
departing to her room that she might read the news from Joe Noy.
He, it may be said, had reached Penzance by the same train which conveyed
his various missives, all posted too late for the mail upon the previous
night. Thus he reached the white cottage on the cliff in time to see Mrs.
Tregenza and bid her destroy unread the letter she would presently receive;
and, on returning to his parents, himself took from the letter-carrier his
own communications to them and burned both immediately.


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