28o ON THE TRACK OF THE MAIL-COACH 



his horn m Enniscorthy, and in a minute or two 

 pulled up and got off the coach at the post-office. 



It was lighted up, the door was ajar, the local bags 

 he could see were tied and sealed, and ready for 

 despatch. But there was no postmistress in waiting 

 as usual. The door would not open freely. White 

 pressed it hard. Some obstruction lay on the floor 

 behind it. 



The Postmistress of Enniscorthy, well stricken in 

 years, had arisen before daylight to finish her last 

 work. She had made out the letter-bills, and closed 

 and sealed the mails. Then the horn blew. What it 

 cost her failing strength to reach the door, to render 

 her last service to the State, none may know ; but 

 no duty was left undone ; there was no postal irregu- 

 larity to report against the dead Postmistress of 

 Enniscorthy. 



