Had they peeped through the window, they would have seen Misel with an impatient gesture sling his crutch in one direction, his cane in another.
“Lena!” he called, in anything but a gentle tone. “Lena!” And then with muttered curses, when he found his wife to be absent, he settled himself to look over the bunch of mail he had just obtained at the post-office. One letter he examined very critically before opening. It was an inoffensive enough looking envelope, addressed on a typewriter and with a postmark from New York. It had the appearance of a circular or advertisement of some sort, being made of cheap, greyish-white paper, the kind of letter one would wait until last to open in a pile of mail, being sure it was of no especial interest or importance. Misel seemed to find it very interesting, however. It was the one he chose from all the letters and papers, and as he examined it, he scowled darkly.
“Lena!” he called as Madame Misel hurriedly entered the cottage, “Lena, some fool has been meddling with my mail!”
“Perhaps not such a big fool as you are!” she answered tartly.
“Look! The envelope has been opened before. Of course it is the letter from Fritz von Lestes, the one we have been awaiting.” He tore it open and read aloud: “‘The paint which you have ordered will be delivered immediately. Am sorry there should have been any delay. I am sending a light grey, as agreed upon.’ Umm—I don’t see how they could make much out of that.”
“Let me see the letter.—Of course they can make much out of it as there is no address,—you men bungle things so! Why should a man who is in the paint business write a letter with no address and sign his name so illegibly that no one could make it out? He should have had a letter head and a business envelope.”
“And speaking of bungling,—why did you go and leave the house with no one in it? Can’t you see that is imprudent?”
“Mrs. Green came for me and I had no excuse.—Besides, I am sure if I am by when the dressings are handed in that no one will inspect my work. I have been packing all morning and have seen to it that my labor has not been in vain.”
“Oh, peerless woman!” he said sarcastically.
Madame Misel said nothing but busied herself over the luncheon. Suddenly she gave a little cry, half distress, half indignation. Misel hastened to her.