They made Thyra conscious of her exceeding loneliness . She had just decided that she would walk down the lane and wait for Chester on the bridge , when a thunderous knock came at the east kitchen door . She recognized August Vorst 's knock and lighted a lamp in no great haste , for she did not like him . He was a gossip and Thyra hated gossip , in man or woman . But August was privileged . She carried the lamp in her hand , when she went to the door , and its upward-striking light gave her face a ghastly appearance . She did not mean to ask August in , but he pushed past her cheerfully , not waiting to be invited . He was a midget of a man , lame of foot and hunched of back , with a white , boyish face , despite his middle age and deep-set , malicious black eyes . He pulled a crumpled newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Thyra . He was the unofficial mail-carrier of Avonlea . Most of the people gave him a trifle for bringing their letters and papers from the office . He earned small sums in various other ways , and so contrived to keep the life in his stunted body . There was always venom in August 's gossip . It was said that he made more mischief in Avonlea in a day than was made otherwise in a year , but people tolerated him by reason of his infirmity . To be sure , it was the tolerance they gave to inferior creatures , and August felt this . Perhaps it accounted for a good deal of his malignity . He hated most those who were kindest to him , and , of these , Thyra Carewe above all . He hated Chester , too , as he hated strong , shapely creatures . His time had come at last to wound them both , and his exultation shone through his crooked body and pinched features like an illuminating lamp . Thyra perceived it and vaguely felt something antagonistic in it .
She pointed to the rocking-chair , XXXXX she might have pointed out a mat to a dog .
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