The woman with the stained glass eyes repeated herself. “Yes?” and when Arnst could only stare at her stupidly in reply, becoming more owl-like by the second, the woman cursed under her breath, saying something like dummkopf (which, by the way, means “idiot” in German). And the door was matter-of-factly shut inches from Arnst’s famous nose.

Arnst continued to stand there stupidly blinking, still at a loss. Then he gathered his courage like reins in his shaking fists and knocked on the door again.

The door swung open instantly, only this time it was not the child but the woman who stood there.

“Mrs. Steiner is not at home. May I help you, sir?”

Arnst grabbed her first sentence as though it were a life raft. “And when will Mrs. Steiner be returning?”

“After dinner, around 9 or so, I imagine. I will tell her you called, Mr….?”

“Arnst Vandenburg.” Struck by sudden inspiration, he stuck out his hand and the woman, being well-bred despite her lingering suspicion, had no choice but to shake his hand.