HOW THE OFFICE OF POSTMAN FELL VACANT IN OTFORD-UNDER-THE-WOLD
The duties of postman at Otford-under-the-Wold carried Amuel Slegginsfarther afield than the village, farther afield than the last house inthe lane, right up to the big bare wold and the house where no onewent, no one that is but the three grim men that dwelt there and thesecretive wife of one, and, once a year when the queer green lettercame, Amuel Sleggins the postman.
The green letter always came just as the leaves were turning,addressed to the eldest of the three grim men, with a wonderfulChinese stamp and the Otford post-mark, and Amuel Sleggins carried itup to the house.
He was not afraid to go, for he always took the letter, had done sofor seven years, yet whenever summer began to draw to a close, AmuelSleggins was ill at ease, and if there was a touch of autumn aboutshivered unduly so that all folk wondered.
And then one day a wind would blow from the East, and the wild geesewould appear, having left the sea, flying high and crying strangely,and pass till they were no more than a thin black line in the sky likea magical stick flung up by a doer of magic, twisting and twirlingaway; and the leaves would turn on the trees and the mists be white onthe marshes and the sun set large and red and autumn would step downquietly that night from the wold; and the next day the strange greenletter would come from China.
His fear of the three grim men and that secretive woman and theirlonely, secluded house, or else the cadaverous cold of the dyingseason, rather braced Amuel when the time was come and he would stepout bolder upon the day that he feared than he had perhaps for weeks.He longed on that day for a letter for the last house in the lane,there he would dally and talk awhile and look on church-going facesbefore his last tramp over the lonely wold to end at the dreaded doorof the queer grey house called wold-hut.
When he came to the door of wold-hut he would give the postman's knockas though he came on ordinary rounds to a house of every day, althoughno path led up to it, although the skins of weasels hung thickly fromupper windows.
And scarcely had his postman's knock rung through the dark of thehouse when the eldest of the three grim men would always run to thedoor. O, what a face had he. There was more slyness in it than everhis beard could hide. He would put out a gristly hand; and into itAmuel Sleggins would put the letter from China, and rejoice that hisduty was done, and would turn and stride away. And the fields lit upbefore him, but, ominous, eager and low murmuring arose in thewold-hut.
For seven years this was so and no harm had come to Sleggins, seventimes he had gone to wold-hut and as often come safely away; and thenhe needs must marry. Perhaps because she was young, perhaps becauseshe was fair or because she had shapely ankles as she came one daythrough the marshes among the milkmaid flowers shoeless in spring.Less things than these have brought men to their ends and been thenooses with which Fate snared them running. With marriage curiosityentered his house, and one day as they walked with evening through themeadows, one summer evening, she asked him of wold-hut where he onlywent, and what the folks were like that no one else had seen. All thishe told her; and then she asked him of the green letter from China,that came with autumn, and what the letter contained. He read to herall the rules of the Inland Revenue, he told her he did not know, thatit was not right that he should know, he lectured her on the sin ofinquisitiveness, he quoted Parson, and in the end she said that shemust know. They argued concerning this for many days, days of theending of summer, of shortening evenings, and as they argued autumngrew nearer and nearer and the green letter from China.
And at last he promised that when the green letter came he would takeit as usual to the lonely house and then hide somewhere near and creepto the window at nightfall and hear what the grim folk said; perhapsthey might read aloud the letter from China. And before he had timeto repent of that promise a cold wind came one night and the woodsturned golden, the plover went in bands at evening over the marshes,the year had turned, and there came the letter from China. Neverbefore had Amuel felt such misgivings as he went his postman's rounds,never before had he so much feared the day that took him up to thewold and the lonely house, while snug by the fire his wife lookedpleasurably forward to curiosity's gratification and hoped to havenews ere nightfall that all the gossips of the village would envy.One consolation only had Amuel as he set out with a shiver, there wasa letter that day for the last house in the lane. Long did he tarrythere to look at their cheery faces, to hear the sound of theirlaughter--you did not hear laughter in wold-hut--and when the lasttopic had been utterly talked out and no excuse for lingering remainedhe heaved a heavy sigh and plodded grimly away and so came late towold-hut.
He gave his postman's knock on the shut oak door, heard it reverberatethrough the silent house, saw the grim elder man and his gristly hand,gave up the green letter from China, and strode away. There is a clumpof trees growing all alone in the wold, desolate, mournful, by day, bynight full of ill omen, far off from all other trees as wold-hut fromother houses. Near it stands wold-hut. Not today did Amuel stridebriskly on with all the new winds of autumn blowing cheerily past himtill he saw the village before him and broke into song; but as soon ashe was out of sight of the house he turned and stooping behind a foldof the ground ran back to the desolate wood. There he waited watchingthe evil house, just too far to hear voices. The sun was low already.He chose the window at which he meant to eavesdrop, a little barredone at the back, close to the ground. And then the pigeons came in;for a great distance there was no other wood, so numbers shelterthere, though the clump is small and of so evil a look (if they noticethat); the first one frightened Amuel, he felt that it might be aspirit escaped from torture in some dim parlour of the house that hewatched, his nerves were strained and he feared foolish fears. Thenhe grew used to them and the sun set then and the aspect of everythingaltered and he felt strange fears again. Behind him was a hollow inthe wold, he watched it darkening; and before him he saw the housethrough the trunks of the trees. He waited for them to light theirlamps so that they could not see, when he would steal up softly andcrouch by the little back window. But though every bird was home,though the night grew chilly as tombs, though a star was out, stillthere shone no yellow light from any window. Amuel waited andshuddered. He did not dare to move till they lit their lamps, theymight be watching. The damp and the cold so strangely affected himthat autumn evening and the remnants of sunset, the stars and the woldand the whole vault of the sky seemed like a hall that they hadprepared for Fear. He began to feel a dread of prodigious things, andstill no light shone in the evil house. It grew so dark that hedecided to move and make his way to the window in spite of thestillness and though the house was dark. He rose and while standingarrested by pains that cramped his limbs, he heard the door swing openon the far side of the house. He had just time to hide behind thetrunk of a pine when the three grim men approached him and the womanhobbled behind. Right to the ominous clump of trees they came asthough they loved their blackness, passed through within a yard or twoof the postman and squatted down on their haunches in a ring in thehollow behind the trees. They lit a fire in the hollow and laid a kidon the fire and by the light of it Amuel saw brought forth from anuntanned pouch the letter that came from China. The elder opened itwith his gristly hand and intoning words that Amuel did not know, drewout from it a green powder and sprinkled it on the fire. At once aflame arose and a wonderful savour, the flames rose higher andflickered turning the trees all green; and Amuel saw the gods comingto snuff the savour. While the three grim men prostrated themselves bytheir fire, and the horrible woman that was the spouse of one, he sawthe gods coming gauntly over the wold, beheld the gods of Old Englandhungrily snuffing the savour, Odin, Balder, and Thor, the gods of theancient people, beheld them eye to eye clear and close in thetwilight, and the office of postman fell vacant inOtford-under-the-Wold.