“Really I am sorry,” and she started to continue, “‘broke my left leg, and I haven’t been able to write with it before.’ That’s what I was laughing at, Maria; it does sound funny, doesn’t it?”
“Give me that letter.” For the first time in her life Maria spoke to her rudely, no longer the servant, but the offended woman. “Give it to me.”
“Really, I beg your pardon, Maria, but it is too absurd. Wait! I will read you the rest of it.”
Maria stepped forward and took the letter out of her hand.
“If you please, Miss,” she said quietly, “I would rather spell it out myself. You see he didn’t write that thinking that anybody was going to laugh at it. He wrote it for an ignorant girl that loves him. I can’t read good, but I can understand, and I guess that’s all he wants.”
CHAPTER VII
DANCE HALL GLITTER
“218 Murray Hill,” Lola repeated impatiently into the telephone. “I have been waiting quite five minutes. Hello! Hello! Madam Zelya, please! This is Miss Barnhelm! Hello! Is that you, Madam? Yes, yes, I have just received your note, and I do not think you are quite fair in the matter. Yes, I know that I did promise, but it is quite impossible. What! My father has nothing to do with this matter, absolutely nothing. If you will be patient for two or three days longer the account will be settled. What is that?… Oh! I am sorry that you choose to take that tone. If you call upon my father you will get nothing, either from my father or from me. I will promise to send a check in a day or two; until then please do not annoy me.”
With this Lola hung up the receiver, leaving a very angry Hungarian dress-maker to get what satisfaction she might from shrill threats and dire prophecies, and turned away from the telephone in time to meet her father and Dr. Crossett as they entered from the outside hall.
“Who has been annoying you, little girl?” inquired her father, who had heard the end of the conversation.