“And you for Bertha,” said Victor, and they both laughed.
At that moment there was a light tap on the door.
“Come in,” cried the two young men together.
The door was opened for a short distance and the face of an untidy maid-of-all-work, with unkempt hair, appeared.
“Come in,” again cried Victor.
“I don’t care to,” said the slavey. “I don’t look well enough, and Mrs. Launders said if I dared go in she’d give it to me when I got back.”
“What do you want?” asked Victor, somewhat impatiently.
“I’ve got a letter for you,” said Sarah, the slavey, “and if you’ll excuse me, I’ll throw it in and you can pick it up.”
Suiting the action to the word, the letter flew high in the air and then fell to the floor. Sarah slammed the door, and her heavy boots were heard clattering upon the stairs all the way down.
Victor sprang forward and picked up the letter. He looked first at the postmark. “Ajaccio,” he cried. “It is from Corsica. I am not acquainted with any person there.” He held the sealed letter in his hand and regarded it.