MARCH 31, 1860

"Good morning."

"Why, good morning, Blythe," the blacksmith looked up from the horse he was shoeing. "How can I help you this morning?"

"Well, it seems our scale at the Post Office is broken. This little metal piece here is snapped in two. Without it, I have no idea what to charge people for sending a letter. Do you think you can fix it?"

He looked at it, examining the broken piece, and smiled at Blythe. "I'm sure I can fix it, Miss Winslow," he said. "Just leave the scale with me, and I'll have it ready for you by this afternoon."

"Thank you," Blythe smiled. "I'll be back to pick it up then