"I cannot walk back to Seeberg," I said half indignantly, "we are too tired; nor would it be safe through the forest alone with two children."
The landlord knocked some ashes off his pipe.
"There may be an ox-cart going that way next week," he observed.
"Next week!" I repeated. Then a sudden idea struck me. "Is there a post-office here?" I said.
Of course there was a post-office; where can one go in Germany where there is not a post and telegraph office?
"The telegraph officials must be sadly overworked here," I said to myself. But as far as mine host was concerned, I satisfied myself with obtaining the locality of the post-office, and with something like a ray of hope I turned to look for the children. They had been amusing themselves with the piano in the now empty room, but as I called to them, Reggie ran out with a very red face.
"I wish I were a man, mamma. Fancy! a peasant—one of those men who were drinking beer—came and put his arm around Nora as she was playing. 'Du spielst schön,' he said, and I do believe he meant to kiss her, if I hadn't shaken my fist at him."
"Yes, indeed, mamma," said Nora, equally but more calmly indignant. "I certainly think the sooner we get away the better."
I had to tell them of my discomfiture, but ended with my new idea.
"If there is a post-office," I said, "the mail must stop there, and the mail takes passengers."