She came and stood in the doorway, shading her eyes from the day. “What?” she said. “You’ve got mail from China,” Speed said. He held up an envelope. It was big, made of some stiff red paper, and sealed with a darker red bit of wax. She had never received mail before. “Where did you get it?” she asked. “It was in the mailbox at the end of the hollow,” Speed said. He said “holler” for “hollow.” Speed had a thick brush of wiry black hair that never combed flat without hair.