"A coal hod is such an infernal tote to tote!" Willie would explain to
his listeners.
Then there was a string which in like manner swung the wood box into
place. Other strings opened and closed the kitchen windows, unfastened
the front gate, rang a bell in Celestina's room, and whisked Willie's
slippers forth from their hiding place beneath the stairs; not to
mention myriad red, blue, green, yellow, and purple strings that had
their goals in the ice chest, the pump, the letter box, and the storm
door, and in connection with which objects they silently performed
mystic benefactions.
Probably, however, the most significant string of all was that of stout
twine that reached from Willie's shop to the home of Janoah Eldridge,
two fields beyond, just at the junction of the Belleport and Harbor
roads. This string not only linked the two cottages but sustained upon
its taut line a small wooden box that could be pulled back and forth at
will and convey from one abode to the other not only written
communications but also such diminutive articles as pipes, tobacco,
spectacles, balls of string, boxes of tacks, and even tools of moderate
weight.
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