The Sisters' house was within walking distance, and Ruth and David had
gone about half the way when they met Father Orin and Toby. These
co-workers were not moving with their usual speed on account of an
unwieldy burden. Tied on behind the priest's saddle was a great bag,
containing the weekly mail for the neighborhood. He went to the
postoffice oftener than any one else, and it had become his custom to
fetch the mail to the chapel once a week, and distribute it after
service on Sundays. When possible, he sent the letters of those who were
not of his congregation by some neighbor who was present; but he often
rode miles out of his way to deliver them with his own hand. It was in
carrying the mail on a bitter winter's day, when the earth was a
glittering sheet of ice, that he had fallen and broken his arm. It was a
serious accident, and would have disabled any one else for a long time,
but he was out again and as busy as ever within a few days, though he
had to carry his arm in a sling for several weeks. He now hailed the two
young people with his kind, merry greeting.
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