How would Frau Meyer have interpreted Joseph's blushes, and the widow's liberality?
I went to bed without caring to pursue that question.
A lapse of two days more brought with it two interesting events: the opening night of a traveling opera company on a visit to Frankfort, and the arrival by a late post of our long-expected letters from London.
The partners (both of them ardent lovers of music) had taken a box for the short season, and, with their usual kindness, had placed a seat at my disposal.

We were all three drinking our coffee before going to the theater, and Joseph was waiting on us, when the rheumatic old housekeeper brought in the letters, and handed them to me, as the person who sat nearest to the door.
"Why, my good creature, what has made you climb the stairs, when you might have rung for Joseph ?" asked kind-hearted Mr.Engelman.
"Because I have got something to ask of my masters," answered crabbed Mother Barbara.

"There are your letters, to begin with.

Is it true that you are, all three of you, going to the theater to-night ?" She never used any of the ordinary terms of respect.

If she had been their mother, instead of their housekeeper, she could not have spoken more familiarly to the two old gentlemen who employed her.
"Well," she went on, "my daughter is in trouble about her baby, and wants my advice.