XII
By the end of September everything was arranged. Dale had ceased to be
postmaster of Rodchurch; the purchase of the business had been
completed; and Mr. Bates had moved out of Vine-Pits to a cottage near
Otterford Mill, leaving behind him the bulk of his furniture as the
property of the incomers. Thus the Dales would have no difficulty in
furnishing the comparatively large house that henceforth was to be
their home.
For the last two days they had been living chaotically in rooms
stripped to a woeful bareness; this morning Mary had gone along the
Hadleigh Road with a wagon full of bedsteads, bedding, and household
utensils; and now, late in the afternoon, the wagon stood at the post
office door again, packed this time with a final load consisting of
those treasures which had been held back for transit under their
owners' charge.
Mavis had already climbed up, and was settling herself on a high
valley of rolled carpets between two mountain ranges formed by the
piano and the parlor bookcases. With anxious eyes she looked at minor
chains of packing-cases that contained the best china, the mantel
ornaments, the hand-painted pictures. Inside a basket on her knees
their cat was mewing disconsolately, despite well-buttered paws.
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