CHAPTER XXV — OSTERNO
“Always gay; always gay!” laughed Steinmetz, rubbing his broad hands together and looking down into the face of Maggie, who was busy at the breakfast-table.
“Yes,” answered the girl, glancing toward Paul, leaning against the window reading his letters. “Yes, always gay. Why not?”
Karl Steinmetz saw the glance. It was one of the little daily incidents that one sees and half forgets. He only half forgot it.
“Why not, indeed?” he answered. “And you will be glad to hear that Ivanovitch is as ready as yourself this morning to treat the matter as a joke. He is none the worse for his freezing, and all the better for his experience. You have added another friend, my dear young lady, to a list which is, doubtless, a very long one.”
“He is a nice man,” answered Maggie. “How is it,” she asked, after a little pause, “that there are more men in the lower classes whom one can call nice than among their betters?”
Paul paused between two letters, hearing the question. He looked up as if interested in the answer, but did not join in the conversation.
“Because dealing with animals and with nature is more conducive to niceness than too much trafficking with human beings,” replied Steinmetz promptly.