For once in his life Bill could prove his innocence. He was quick to avail himself of the opportunity, and, much to her surprise, he turned and blew his blameless breath at her.
Mrs. Jones relaxed, exclaiming, in tones of relief, "Thank the Lord!"
"What's He got to do with it?" Bill asked, quickly.
Mrs. Jones smiled. For the time being her manner was mollified. She followed him to the desk behind which he had returned to the mail-rack. "You know," she explained, "it's 'way past dinner-time, and if you won't work, the least you can do is to be on time for your meals."
"I been workin'," Bill chirped, as he placed the last letter in its box and went toward the dining-room door.
Mrs. Jones placed herself in the middle of the room and in such a way that Bill could not reach his goal without passing her. "What work have you been doin'?" The sarcasm in the glance which pierced Bill's shifting gaze did not pierce his good humor. He continued to chirp. "I got the mail."
"The mail?" There was contempt in his wife's question and in the answer she gave to it. "The mail came at ten o'clock."
"I got it, didn't I?" Bill registered another cheerful quip.
Suddenly Mrs. Jones's mind recurred to the day of the month. Her contempt gave place to anxiety and she stepped close to her husband and looked into his face again. "Bill, was there a letter for you?" she asked.
Bill did not answer her with words. Instead he looked away from her and shook his head slowly.